Harry Potter & the Halfblood Auror
by chelseyb
Summary: In his quest to stop Malfoy in his sixth year, Harry turns to an old friend for help. Along the way he finds new allies, a Horcrux, & someone to stand by his side. Alternate view of HBP. Rating for language & violence.
1. Trust

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter & everything that goes with it belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

**Author's Note:** Everything through chapter 7 of Half-Blood Prince is canon unless otherwise mentioned in this chapter. Rating is mostly for language, as Tonks has a filthy mouth, & some violence later on. Many, many thanks to my wonderful beta, Sav.

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><p><strong>Trust<strong>

_April 1992_

Harry hurried down the corridor. He'd been helping Hagrid with Norbert the dragon, and he had no desire to lose more points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew. But Harry had a slight problem: he was lost. He took what he swore was a shortcut he and Ron found after Charms last week, but nothing around him looked familiar. Panting heavily under his invisibility cloak, Harry jogged along, keeping a keen eye out for a prefect, teacher, or Filch the caretaker as he desperately sought a painting or statue he recognized.

"Right, I should go. Mum'll live up to her maiden name if I get another detention."

A female voice, followed by muted peals of laughter, startled Harry, and he froze when light spilled out from a nearby classroom. A girl, presumably the owner of the voice, stepped out, peering around cautiously. She wore a Hogwarts uniform, though it wasn't entirely within regulations. The skirt was far shorter than he was accustomed to seeing, revealing a mile of bare legs, and her shoes dangled from one hand instead of being on her feet. Her untucked shirt was open at the top, and a tie that Harry thought to be in Hufflepuff colors hung loosely around her neck. Easily the oddest thing about her appearance was her hair, a vivid pink.

Apparently satisfied with the seemingly deserted corridor, the girl began to saunter down it, not at all concerned with stealth. Spotting his chance, Harry followed. Hufflepuff or not, surely she would lead him to a place he knew. He shadowed the girl for a few minutes without detection, hardly daring to believe his luck. However, halfway up a staircase Harry stubbed his toe and was unable to completely muffle his sharp intake of breath.

The girl stiffened, glancing around warily. "Peeves?" she called in a hoarse whisper. "Peeves, if that's you, you can bugger off."

Sighing, Harry pulled off the cloak, revealing himself. "It – it's just me," he mumbled.

She jumped. "Bloody hell, I've picked up a stalker!" She frowned at him in the dark. "You're nothing more than an titchy firstie, are you? What are you doing out of bed?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry said quickly. "But I'm ... well, I'm lost. Do you know the way to Gryffindor Tower?"

Her mouth twisted in a grin, then dropped as a distinct meow echoed from an unseen location. Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, was on the prowl, and Filch was never far behind. "Shite. Hurry!" The girl quickly turned, but when Harry didn't move, she looked back. "Don't you trust me?"

"Um –" _I don't even know you._

"Great. Run!" She grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him with her, dashing this way and that until he was quite disoriented. Finally she pelted straight through a tapestry, not into a wall as Harry expected but inside a thoroughly hidden passageway. "_Duro!_" Interestingly, the tapestry turned into solid stone. "_Lumos._" She held a hand to her lips, listening carefully. The light from her wand revealed dark, dancing eyes set in a heart-shaped face. She was significantly taller than Harry, who was rather small for his age anyway, and clearly older, a sixth or seventh year. After a minute or two of silence, she relaxed.

"Thanks," Harry panted.

She waved a hand in dismissal. "Not much I like more than giving that damn cat the slip." Her brow furrowed as she looked at him. "You're Harry Potter."

It wasn't a question, so Harry wasn't sure how to respond. "Er ... how did you know this was here?"

She grinned impishly. "Seven years of midnight excursions gives you a pretty thorough knowledge of hiding places. Oh, the times I've dodged Filch ..."

A seventh year, then. "So _do_ you know how to get to Gryffindor Tower?"

"Sure. If you go back out the tapestry and take a left, you run straight into the statue of Lachlan the Lanky, and –"

"Oh, I know where that is," said Harry with great relief.

"Wicked. Well, I'm this way, so this is where we split, I reckon." She waved her wand, and the tapestry reappeared.

"Okay. Um, thanks."

She reached out and ruffled his hair, winking. "Anytime. And Harry? Try to explore a bit more in the daylight before you go wandering in the dark, or you'll pass my record for detentions."

**oOo**

_August 1993_

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

Harry jumped as he heard the bellow, authoritative yet young and decidedly female. People quickly moved to either side of Diagon Alley, and a second later he understood why. A grubby man with desperation in his face came into view, running full tilt with a young woman hot on his heels, her flaming red hair streaming behind her. She cast spell after spell toward the man, who weaved and dodged.

As he drew even with Harry, the man suddenly veered into the alleyway next to Florean Fortescue's. Acting without thinking, Harry stuck out his foot and tripped the man. The impact made Harry drop his ice cream, but the man collapsed on the ground. Before he could rise again, the young woman fell with her knee in his back, making him let out a grunt.

"Thanks, mate," she said to Harry, not taking her eyes off her captive as she waved her wand, winding handcuffs around the man's wrists. She stood and tugged him to his feet. "C'mon, fatso, you've got a date with the DMLE."

She turned to Harry while keeping a firm grip on her prisoner. Recognition grew on her face as her eyes flicked upward to his scar. "S'pose I owe you an ice cream now." She smiled, and as she turned on the spot and disappeared with a CRACK, taking the man with her, Harry could have sworn she winked at him. As he made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, he wondered what had just happened.

A few days later Harry was wandering down Diagon Alley with the intention of ogling the Firebolt again when he felt a hand clap his shoulder. "Wotcher, Harry. How about that ice cream?"

Startled, he turned around to see the young woman who had arrested the thief smiling down at him. At least, he thought it was the same person. The face was the same, but the hair was purple and the eyes were dark when he remembered light. She wore an expression of delight, which only furthered Harry's confusion.

"Don't you remember?" she asked. "The other day, you tripped Fatty McThief and spilled your ice cream ..."

"Yeah, I do," he said. "I just – you were different, your hair and your eyes."

She laughed. "I'm a Metamorphmagus." Noticing his blank expression, she laughed again. "It means I can change my appearance at will. Look!" She screwed up her face like she was in pain, and her hair inexplicably changed to a bright blue.

"Wow!" Harry exclaimed, awed. Flying, Apparition, and Animagi were shoved aside – this was undoubtedly the coolest bit of magic he'd ever seen. "Can I learn to do that?"

"No, sorry," she said with a sympathetic tone. "Metamorphmagi are born, not made. It's an innate ability that can't be taught. Bet you'd like to hide that scar, though." Her eyes flicked to his forehead again.

"Yeah." Harry glanced away, frowning. He hated when people looked at his scar, and he hated being so easily recognizable.

"Anyway," she-who-remained-nameless continued, throwing a companionable arm around his shoulders and steering a dumbfounded Harry down the street. "I said I owed you an ice cream, so here I am. What flavor?"

And that was how Harry found himself outside Florean Fortescue's slurping a large mint chocolate chip ice cream and sitting with a girl he just met without a clue how it happened. She told him to call her Tonks (there was a first name but she claimed a manticore couldn't drag it out of her), she completed Hogwarts at the end of Harry's first year, and she was beginning her second year of training to be something called an Auror.

"Basically, we hunt down and catch Dark Wizards," she explained. "Normally a regular DMLE squad would handle something like a petty thief, but they've pulled everyone at the Ministry off their normal jobs to search for Sirius Black, so us trainees get stuck with boring things like this." A strange shadow crossed her face, and she stared away, all traces of a smile gone, but just as quickly she brightened and her eyes gleamed with anticipation. "When I qualify year after next, I get to go after the real thing. No more small peanuts."

"That's really cool," Harry said, impressed.

"It is," she agreed fervently. "So what are you doing here, Harry?"

"I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron until school starts," he said evasively, not wishing to tell this cool girl that he'd inflated his aunt and run away.

"Odd place for summer holiday, but whatever flies your broom." As she licked her cone, she tilted her head, eyes dancing as if she knew a secret. "You don't remember me, do you?"

He frowned. "We've met?" _Surely I would remember someone with blue hair._

"Sure. Back at Hogwarts, year or two ago. You were lost in the castle in the middle of the night, and I helped you out ..." She shrugged. "One tends to remember meeting Harry Potter."

Harry mentally examined his first year. Now that he thought about it, he did remember the time he ran from Mrs. Norris with that Hufflepuff girl. "Pink hair, Hufflepuff tie?"

She grinned. "The one and only. Guess you found your way back to Gryffindor Tower, then?"

"I did," Harry confirmed with a smile. Her cheerful nature was infectious.

Surprisingly, they talked for another half hour or so before she finished her cone and stood. "I should get going. It's my only day off, and I promised Mum and Dad I'd have dinner with them. She'll do her nut if I don't show my pretty face."

Harry stood up when she did. "Dessert before dinner?"

She winked. "I won't tell if you won't."

"Okay, well, thanks for the ice cream, uh, Tonks."

"Hey, thanks for helping me out." Unexpectedly, she hugged him, and though Harry was highly uncomfortable, it seemed the thing to do was to hug her back, so he awkwardly did just that.

"Well, parting is such sweet sorrow, but I'll see you around, Harry. Take care."

**oOo**

_August 1994_

"Harry?"

Harry turned around at the sound of a woman's voice that seemed vaguely familiar. "Erm … Tonks?"

She grinned, and it was definitely her, sporting bright green hair and grey eyes that matched the hat on her head. Tonks obviously supported Ireland. "Wotcher! I knew that was you. What are you doing here?"

"The Quidditch World Cup, what else?" he said as she hugged him. _Always hugging, this one_.

"Me, too. My parents got me a ticket for my birthday," she said. "How are you, mate?"

"I'm good," he replied. "You?"

"Never better."

"Tonks?" Bill and Charlie emerged from the tent behind Ron.

"As I live and breathe, it's the Weasley boys!" She gave hugs all around, even to Ron, who looked both confused and embarrassed.

"You know Harry?" Bill asked, looking from one to the other in surprise.

"Oh, we're old friends," she said with a careless wave of her hand like they'd grown up together, slinging one arm over Harry's shoulder. Ron stared at him, and he shrugged helplessly.

Tonks stood outside their tent chatting until it was nearly time for the match. She was introduced to Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and the twins but seemed to be at least casual acquaintances with the older Weasleys, though Harry suspected there was more with Bill, judging by the coy glances they exchanged.

"I think I should go meet my friends now. They're probably already pissed, and someone has to make sure they don't burn down our tent," she said after a while. "I'd hate to kip on the ground." Again she gave hugs to all, saving Harry for last.

"Harry, can I talk to you for a second?" she asked, slipping her arm through his and pulling him to the side without waiting for an answer. "I hear I have you to thank for Sirius."

Harry was stunned. How did she know, and why wasn't she upset? Weren't the Aurors looking for him? "You know Sirius?"

She smiled, eyes shining brightly. "We're related. First cousins once removed or something like that. My mum's cousin. I knew him when I was really small, but I grew up hearing he was a traitor like everyone else." With much more clarity, Harry remembered the odd look she wore when she spoke of Sirius the previous summer. "Of course he's gone now, but he slipped by Mum and Dad's before he left. I was lucky enough to be there when he did, and he was lucky enough to blurt out the story before I arrested him. You were fantastic, Harry."

"I, well, I had to do something," said Harry awkwardly. "Is he okay? Do you know?"

"I haven't heard from him since he left, but then I told him not to contact me too often. It'd mean both our arses if the Ministry found out. Anyway, it's almost time for the match, so I bid you adieu. Told you I'd see you around. Until next time, then?"

"When's that?" he asked boldly. Like Bill, Tonks was the definition of cool, and Harry enjoyed her apparent friendship, even if she did have a propensity for hugging.

"You never know. We have this knack for running into each other at the oddest times," she said with a cheeky wink and another swift hug. "Keep one of those green eyes out."

**oOo**

_August 1995_

"And this is Nymphadora –"

"Don't _call_ me Nymphadora, Remus," the witch protested with a shudder, and in a snap Harry finally realized who the woman partially hidden in the shadows and grinning from ear to ear was.

"Tonks?" he blurted. Of all the people to show up in the Dursleys' kitchen ...

"You two know each other?" Professor Lupin asked quizzically, looking back and forth.

"We go way back," Tonks said, stepping forward to engulf Harry in a hug. By this time, he'd come to expect it from her. "And by the way, Remus, I managed to go over three years without Harry knowing my first name. Thanks for blowing it, you prat."

Harry grinned. "You don't look like a Nym-"

"Don't say it, Harry," Tonks warned, gesturing with her wand. "You'd go by your surname, too, if your fool of a mother named you something that foul."

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, his grin fading as he looked past Tonks to the other seven or eight people to whom he'd just been introduced. "This is all very strange."

"We're here to rescue you," Tonks said offhandedly, as if such things took place every day.

"Sorry we were so long, Harry," said Lupin. "It took a while to get organized and set up headquarters somewhere safe."

"Get your things, Potter," growled Mad-Eye Moody before Harry could ask another of his many questions. "We're running out of time."

"C'mon, Harry, don't you _want_ to get out of here?" Tonks grabbed the still-confused Harry by the arm and dragged him up the stairs. "I'll help you."

His mind still trying to process everything, Harry obediently followed. "So ... how are you?"

"Fantastic. Been incredibly busy, what with qualifying and all," she said casually.

"Qualif– what! You're an Auror now? That's brilliant!" Harry exclaimed.

She beamed, pulling out a small badge. "Tonks, Junior Auror extraordinaire, at your service."

Harry came to an abrupt stop, suddenly horrified. "Is that why you're here? Did the Ministry send you?"

"No, of course not, they have no idea I'm here," she said quickly. "We'll explain everything later, but we're all part of a group dedicated to defeating You-Know-Who. Dumbledore's group. It's fine, trust me." Tonks frowned, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, how are _you_?"

Something about her question and the genuine concern in her eyes struck Harry, and he remembered that in the few frustrating letters he had received that summer, no one had ever wanted to know how he was doing. "It's just ... it's a lot, you know? The dementors and Voldemort and – and Cedric."

Her expression softened, and Harry realized that as a Hufflepuff, she probably knew Cedric, too. "You'll be okay, Harry. The Ministry deal will blow over, they can all bugger off anyway, and we're getting you out of this hellhole. You'll be with the Weasleys and Hermione and Sirius."

"Sirius is there?" Harry's heart soared.

She nodded, grinning. "And me. I'm here to save the day once again."

Feeling ten times lighter, Harry laughed. "What would I do without you?"

"Still be wandering around Hogwarts castle, I bet, or maybe –"

"Get a move on, Tonks! This is not social hour!" Moody bellowed up the staircase.

She grimaced, rolling her eyes. "He's a right old dictator."

"I saw that."

She rolled her eyes again.

**oOo**

_September 1996_

"Wotcher, Harry."

Harry blinked as a smiling pink-haired woman came into view, her dark brown eyes a mix of amusement and slight anxiety, flicking her wand at him. He scrambled to his feet as he unfroze, holding his hand to his nose to staunch the bleeding. "Thanks," he muttered, embarrassed.

"No problem," Tonks said cheerfully, returning his invisibility cloak to him. "The train's leaving. We should go."

Harry followed the Metamorphmagus as she maneuvered down the corridor and onto the back of the train car. It was already nearing the edge of the platform, picking up speed. She leaped off the train, stumbling as she landed, and Harry followed a bit more smoothly.

She turned to him with her wand. "Like me to fix that nose for you?" Harry nodded. "Hold still."

Harry cautiously touched his nose as a tingling sensation shot through it, burning hot followed by icy cold. Surprisingly, it felt perfectly normal. "Thanks, Tonks!"

"You're welcome," she said. "Let me get some of the blood off your face, looks like you turned cannibal. I'd clean your shirt, too, but, well ... you should probably just leave that to the Hogwarts house-elves."

"Still no good at those householdy type spells?" he asked, grinning.

She returned his grin. "Nah, but I think I make up for it with healing spells."

"Auror training?"

She shrugged. "Well, half that and half bare necessity." Harry laughed, and she joined in. "C'mon, we need to get to Hogwarts before they deploy half the Ministry looking for you." Tonks sent a small white creature into the darkness.

"Was that a Patronus?" Harry asked interestedly. He had seen Dumbledore send messages like that.

"Yes. I'm letting the teachers know I have you."

"Could you show me how to do that?" Harry asked, feeling like it would be an immensely useful spell to know. He would have felt odd asking anyone else except Lupin, but Tonks had always been friendly with him.

"Certainly, but we don't have the time now," she answered. "It requires a lot of concentration."

"I can already conjure a regular Patronus," he said defensively.

"I know you can," she said, sounding surprised. "None of that now, Harry, this has nothing to do with your abilities. You need to get to school is all. Christmas, perhaps?"

"Yeah." Harry felt a bit ashamed; Tonks had never treated him like a child before, so he shouldn't have expected her to start now.

"So, have you ever done Side-Along Apparition?"

"Yes, but –" Harry's response was cut off as Tonks seized both his hands and twisted. For the second time in his life, Harry was treated to the highly uncomfortable sensation akin to being squeezed through a very small tube.

When they reappeared, still in the darkness, he fell over, feeling rather sick to his stomach. Since he still clenched her hands, Tonks toppled over as well. "Not often that happens as the fault of someone else," she remarked, disentangling herself and yanking Harry to his feet with a mighty heave. Lighting her wand, she peered at his face, frowning. "Alright, mate? Look a bit peaky."

"Fine," he grumbled, wondering why magical travel had to be so uncomfortable. Looking around, Harry saw that they stood outside the gates of Hogwarts. Striding to them confidently, he pulled, only to be rebuffed as they remained solidly closed.

"Wasting your time," Tonks, who was leaning against a nearby tree, called. "Magically sealed, not even _Alohomora_ will work."

"So how am I supposed to get in?" he asked with some annoyance. His sixth year at Hogwarts was off to his worst start since the time he and Ron flew the car to school. "Why didn't you Apparate us all the way there?"

"You can't Apparate in the grounds of Hogwarts, don't you know that?"

Harry smiled wryly, remembering the exasperation of a certain brunette. "Hermione might have mentioned it once or twice." _Or ten times._ "So how do I get in?"

"I sent the Patronus to Hagrid. He'll come." Tonks smiled at him reassuringly before glancing around, humming slightly to herself.

Belatedly, it occurred to Harry that Tonks wasn't part of the Hogwarts staff, nor did she have any reason to be in Hogsmeade. An irritating thought presented itself. "Is the Order having me tailed again? I mean, aren't the summers enough? Now I need a year-round babysitter, too?"

Tonks turned to him with wide eyes. "Blimey, Harry, calm down. I'm here because they beefed up security at Hogwarts tenfold and stationed a squad of Aurors in Hogsmeade. I was watching the train, and when I didn't see you get off, I jumped aboard on a hunch."

Harry felt like a prat again. He remembered how Tonks told Ginny how to tell if a door was Imperturbed last year; out of the entire Order, only Sirius had treated them more like adults than Tonks._ Sirius_. Harry wondered if thoughts of his godfather would ever stop being painful. Glancing again at Tonks, who didn't seem the least bit put out by his outburst, Harry wondered if he was the only one who missed Sirius.

"Tonks," he started hesitantly, hoping it wasn't a sore subject. "Listen, I'm ... I'm sorry about Sirius."

Tonks straightened and walked to him, a trace of sadness visible in her eyes. "Yeah, me too."

"No, I mean ... I'm sorry that he was there, that all of you had to come. It was my fault. I'm sorry you got hurt. Are you okay now?"

"I'm fine, Harry. Just need to learn to move quicker." He waited for her to continue, figuring he knew what was coming, but she just appeared confused. "Something else on your mind?"

He brushed at his fringe. "Aren't you going to tell me not to blame myself, like everyone else?"

"No," she said simply. He looked at her in disbelief, and she faced him, putting both her hands on his shoulders and holding his gaze. "I've been there, mate. It doesn't matter what I say. Eventually you'll work through it in your head. For what it's worth, I do think you're very brave."

"Thanks," he mumbled, touched.

"Are _you_ okay?"

Harry opened his mouth for the obligatory "fine", but it never came. "I miss him," he said instead, unplanned. He thought of the prophecy, of the deaths over the summer, of Dumbledore's secrets. "And I have a lot to think about. Decisions to make."

"Well, let me know if I can help," she replied with a warm smile. Keeping her hands on his shoulders, Tonks looked at Harry like she'd never seen him before. She glanced up and down appraisingly, and he fought back a flush, feeling exposed. When her eyes met his again, he saw she had to look up slightly. "Bloody hell, Harry, when did you grow up on me? I've been thinking of you as that short, scrawny eleven-year-old lost in the castle."

Harry ducked his head, grinning self-consciously. "I think that happens to the best of us, Tonks."

"I suppose you're right. We can't all be Peter Pan, no matter how much we try." She resumed her position against a tree.

"Who's that?"

"Bloke in a Muggle kids' book, never wanted to grow up."

"What are you doing reading a Muggle kids' book?"

She shrugged. "For one, I have Muggle relatives, and unlike you, I actually like mine. Understandable, since they never purposefully locked me in a cupboard. And B, despite the lack of magic, I enjoy Muggle pursuits from time to time. Don't knock it."

"I wasn't," Harry protested. "Only surprised."

"I'm full of surprises," she remarked with a wink.

Harry smiled, then took to pacing in front of the gates as Tonks fell silent. He hoped Malfoy would keep quiet about the incident on the train, but knowing the blond Slytherin, the entire school was being treated to exaggerated pantomimes at this very moment. Trying to get his mind off Malfoy, he turned to Tonks again. "So, how was your summer? I only saw you the once at the Burrow, and you looked ..." He trailed off, realizing she probably didn't want a reminder.

"Like crap?" she finished dryly. "I did, you can say it. My appearance tends to reflect my mood, so when I'm unhappy, I look like, well, exactly like you saw me. And at that time, I was still broken up about Sirius." She quieted, blowing out her breath before continuing. "Then Mum and Dad convinced me to go on holiday for a bit, and when I returned, I was tremendously busy with work, dealing with all the attacks and setting up the new security measures here. Hogwarts is now tighter than a nun's ... ah, just really tight. Anyway, how was your summer?"

"Good, I guess. Escaped the Dursleys early, got my OWL results, made Quidditch captain."

"Brilliant!" she exclaimed. "I always wanted one of those badges. Maybe I can make it to a match while I'm here."

"So you think you'll be around the castle much, or just in Hogsmeade?"

"Just Hogsmeade, as far as I know. Look me up on your weekends?"

"Of course," he promised, grinning at his pink-haired friend. Tonks was always good fun. "Wouldn't dare otherwise."

"You better, or I'll hunt you down," she teased, pointing her wand at him. "So, you want to tell me what happened on the train? I'm bursting to know."

Harry could hear the amusement in her voice, and he appreciated her restraint from laughing. "Malfoy," he growled. The incident still rankled.

Tonks frowned. "Lucius's son?"

Harry nodded. She merely waited for him to continue, her expression curious, and he hesitated before deciding to go for it. Tonks was cool, and he knew her well enough to know she wouldn't take the mickey out of him too badly. So he told her everything he overheard in Malfoy's carriage, finishing with Malfoy breaking Harry's nose and sweeping the invisibility cloak over his body. As he talked, it occurred to him that Tonks was an Auror; who better to inform about a possible Death Eater than a friend in law enforcement?

"Interesting. But Harry, why did you go into his compartment in the first place?"

Simultaneously excited that she was listening and worried that she would blow him off like everyone else, Harry recounted his trip to Diagon Alley with Ron and Hermione. Occasionally glancing toward the castle, where a light could be seen growing nearer, Tonks continued to ask Harry questions, skillfully drawing out every last detail of both his encounters. As she wound down, he realized with some amusement that he'd just been interrogated by a professional.

"Hmm."

"That's it?"

Tonks was clearly in deep thought. "Have you told anyone else?"

"No one about tonight, obviously, but I told Mr. Weasley about Diagon Alley. He didn't seem concerned."

"Well, he wouldn't be." With that cryptic comment, Tonks lifted her eyes to his. "Harry, do you trust me?"

He was taken aback. "Yes."

"Would you mind if I looked into this further, talked to some coworkers?"

"Are you kidding?" he replied excitedly. "That's exactly – wait, you mean the Ministry?"

"I know you don't like the Ministry, and with good reason. They were awful to you last year. But things have changed. After the Department of Mysteries, I should have lost my job. It was clear I was in league with Dumbledore, something that was expressly forbidden. But instead they actually gave Kingsley and I commendations for recognizing that You-Know-Who was back before anyone else."

"I don't know ..." Harry sighed, frustrated. He wanted to stop Malfoy, but he wasn't at all sure he wanted the Ministry involved.

"You said you trust me, and I trust the people I work with," said Tonks earnestly. "I certainly don't intend to broadcast my investigation, and I'll keep your name out of it as much as possible. I heard about what Scrimgeour asked you over the summer. He's a git for doing so, but it's the politician in him. He was a damn good Auror, and he's the kind of person we need in charge right now. It's going to get worse before it gets better."

"Yeah, alright," Harry reluctantly conceded. _Better than nothing._ "Thank you, you know, for listening."

"Anytime. Were you planning on telling anyone else?"

"I thought I would tell Dumbledore." Harry wasn't at all sure he had completely forgiven Dumbledore for withholding the prophecy, but at least Dumbledore planned to talk to him this year. Harry eagerly looked forward to his private lessons.

Tonks hesitated, and for a moment Harry thought she would disagree. "Yeah, of course you should."

"I – " Harry was interrupted by the creaking of the gates behind them. When he turned, his heart sank. Instead of the half-giant he expected, the Hogwarts Potions master awaited him, the one person at the castle Harry disliked as much as Draco Malfoy.

"You're not Hagrid." Tonks's voice was accusing and annoyed; clearly she and Harry shared a mutual dislike.

"Undoubtedly. Your remarkable knack for spotting the obvious must be of enormous value to the Aurors." Severus Snape was as acerbic as ever. "Hagrid is late as well."

With the air of one determined to get the worst over, Harry gave Tonks a rueful smile. "Thanks, Tonks."

"Goodbye, Harry. I'll be in touch." Tonks hugged him, and when she pulled away, she glanced warningly over his shoulder before lowering her voice. "Watch out you don't slip in the grease from Sevvie."

"Bye," replied Harry, stifling his laughter.

As he walked away, Harry glanced back. Tonks gave him a jaunty salute before twisting on the spot and Disapparating silently. Trudging next to Snape, who droned on about House points and Muggle clothing, as gleeful as he'd ever been, Harry wondered if Tonks would actually be able to do something, pleased that someone was finally taking him seriously. Though he was sure she had the best of intentions, he didn't trust the Ministry further than he could throw it, and so Harry strengthened his resolve to talk to Dumbledore as soon as possible. And then he would confront Malfoy himself.

Harry Potter was done depending entirely on others.


	2. Plans

**Author's Note:** Something I forgot to include in my previous A/N. I am from the U.S., so there will be American spelling, and I apologize in advance for any Americanisms that creep in. I do my best. Feel free to point them out for future reference.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Plans<span>**

Harry tried to ignore the stares and titters of the other students as he hurried to the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, sliding into a seat between Ron and Hermione right when the desserts appeared.

"What happened to you?" Hermione hissed. "You didn't get off the train, and your shirt is covered in blood. _Scourgify_."

As the blood disappeared from his clothing, Harry shook his head, reaching for a chocolate gateau, aware both Ginny and Neville were leaning in curiously. "Tell you later," he mumbled. "What did I miss?"

"Just the Sorting," replied Ron. "Same stuff as last year. Danger outside, work together, buddy up with the Slytherins. And I swear those tetchy firsties get smaller every year."

"Harry, is that the new Defense professor?" Ginny pointed at the staff table.

Harry glanced at the enormously fat man next to Professor Sinistra. "Yeah, that's Slughorn."

"Don't reckon he'll be demonstrating much dueling," said Ron, sniggering.

Harry, Neville, Ginny, and Dean Thomas, Ginny's boyfriend and Harry's classmate, laughed, picturing the large man attempting to dodge curses. Hermione looked torn between disapproval and joining in, choosing instead to concentrate on her trifle.

When Dumbledore stood up and began his traditional welcome speech, Harry remembered his earlier vow to speak to the Headmaster about Malfoy, wondering how he could find an excuse to approach him. However, the thoughts of that particular Slytherin were replaced by another when Dumbledore made a startling announcement.

"No!" Harry protested, his voice rising above the surprised murmurs of other students. "He can't do that!"

"But you said Slughorn was teaching Defense, not Potions," Ron said, gaping from Snape to Harry.

"I did ... but he never said ... I assumed ..." Harry was stunned; how could Dumbledore do this? Why would he deny Snape's request to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts for over a dozen years only to give in now? Dumbledore trusted Snape, but Sirius had not and Tonks clearly did not like her former professor. Harry knew all too well that Dumbledore made mistakes. His spirits plummeted at the thought of his most hated teacher covering his favorite subject.

Though the Slytherins cheered, the rest of the school was noticeably subdued. It was in this mood that Harry made his way to Gryffindor Tower, frustrated at the thought of a year filled with Malfoy as a Death Eater, Snape ruining the one subject Harry was good at, and no letters from Sirius.

"Hey, Harry!" Neville jogged up to him in the common room. "Are you going to continue the DA this year?"

"I wasn't planning on it. No more Umbridge, you know?" Harry said slowly, thinking hard. "But, I don't know, maybe we could have a study group on the weekends or something."

"That's a really good idea," exclaimed Parvati Patil, giving Harry a wide smile.

"Are you serious, Harry?" Hermione said excitedly. "You aren't planning on just getting by with my notes anymore?"

"Well, I'm not taking History of Magic anymore, but I'll still need you," Harry told her, noting that Ron was staring at him like he'd sprouted a tail. "I mean, not only are NEWT classes supposed to be hard, but I think it's a good idea to learn all we can, with everything that's going on out there."

Hermione beamed at him, her eyes alight, and Harry began to fear he'd unleashed a monster. Parvati smiled at him again as well as they headed for their separate dormitories.

"You break your head along with your nose, mate?" Ron asked in a low voice as they changed into their pajamas. "Aren't we going to be busy enough with homework and Quidditch? I've got prefect duties, too!"

"Ron, we all could have died at the Department of Mysteries," said Harry firmly. "Getting by isn't good enough anymore. And it goes hand in hand with homework, doesn't it?"

Ron just shook his head, climbing into his four-poster, but Harry was rather pleased with himself. The idea had been spontaneous, but he figured it was a good one. He was only sixteen; the best place to start taking control of his life was school. He didn't stand a chance of defeating Voldemort if he could barely pass intermediate magic.

**oOo**

At breakfast the next morning, Harry stared at Dumbledore up at the staff table, wondering how to reach the Headmaster. He didn't need to draw too much attention to himself, not wanting his suspicions about Malfoy to become widely known.

"What's up, Harry?" Ron remarked in between bites of sausage. "You keep looking at Dumbledore like he's about to go up in flames."

Belatedly Harry realized he had yet to tell Ron and Hermione about what happened on the train, but he couldn't at the moment, not with everyone around them. He was saved by the appearance of Professor McGonagall, who was making her way down the table handing out class schedules.

"Potter, Weasley, Granger," she said, handing them square sheets of parchment. "Potter, I see you aren't taking Potions, which is required for an Auror. Are you no longer interested?"

"I am, but I only got an E on my OWL, Professor."

"Which, while not satisfactory for Professor Snape, is perfectly acceptable for Professor Slughorn." Harry thought he caught a hint of a rare McGonagall smile. "Shall I add you to the roster?"

"Yes, thanks, Professor." Harry felt much lighter. Maybe he'd become an Auror after all.

"Can I take Potions now, too?" Ron asked eagerly.

The Transfiguration teacher nodded. "You'll both have to order your books. In the meantime, there will be some old copies in the classroom you can borrow."

Once McGonagall left them, Harry pulled Ron and Hermione into a deserted antechamber off the Entrance Hall that he vaguely remembered was used prior to Sortings and rapidly filled them in on the latest Malfoy revelation. However, their reactions were less than enthusiastic.

"Mate, this is Malfoy we're talking about," Ron said skeptically. "He's been running his mouth since the first day we arrived at Hogwarts, always making out to be more important than the rest of us. I'm surprised he didn't bring up 'my father.'"

Despite his annoyance, Harry grinned, for Ron had matched the slimy Slytherin's cocky tone perfectly.

"Ron's right, Harry," Hermione said, earning a surprised look from the redhead. "What job could Voldemort expect sixteen-year-old Draco Malfoy to do?"

"Kill me, maybe?" Harry snapped sarcastically. "Take me to him? Prophecy or not, he's not going to stop until I'm dead."

The witch shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know ... we should go to class now, we'll be late."

"Tonks believes me, you know," Harry muttered as they headed for the dungeons.

"You told Tonks?" Hermione gave him a sideways glance.

"After she rescued me from the train. Who better? She's an Auror. It's her job to track down Death Eaters. I'm going to talk to Dumbledore, too."

"And she believed you?"

"Yes. Said she'd look into it herself."

Hermione looked intrigued at the thought of a professional on Harry's side, but Ron shook his head before she could say anything. "Just because Tonks is an Auror doesn't mean anything. Not like she's perfect."

Harry frowned at his friend, intending to query him on his strange animosity toward the Metamorphmagus, but he was interrupted by the arrival of Professor Snape for his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, which Harry approached with some trepidation.

True to form, Snape's lesson proved to be unpleasant. After speaking of the Dark Arts as one would a lover, with a caressing yet creepy tone, he set them to practice nonverbal incantations with very little instruction. Typically, Hermione caught on quickly, but neither Harry, Ron, nor any other student could silently cast so much as a simple silencing charm.

However, Harry's day improved on the way to Potions when Jack Sloper, one of last year's Gryffindor Beaters, handed him a folded piece of parchment in the corridor, which proved to be a note from Dumbledore setting their first private lesson for that Saturday night. _Excellent_, thought Harry. Not only was he eager to find out what Dumbledore would teach him, but this would be the perfect opportunity to tell him about Malfoy. Between Dumbledore and whatever Tonks was doing at the Ministry, Malfoy's plan would be stopped before he made his first move.

Harry wasn't sure what to expect in his first lesson with Slughorn, but beyond a rather exuberant welcome, it began like most other Potions lessons. Slughorn talked for a bit and set them a potion to make. Then it got interesting.

First, Slughorn offered a prize for the best potion. And not just any prize – Felix Felicis, a potion that all but guaranteed good fortune and success. One drink of which, Slughorn assured them, would equal a perfect day. Even more interesting was the fact that Malfoy was obviously keen to acquire the little bottle, working on his potion with a fervor Harry had never seen him demonstrate in five years of shared lessons. One more clue that Malfoy had something up his sleeve, for what better to ensure the success of a nefarious plan than a little liquid luck?

The second interesting occurrence was Harry's temporary Potions book. When they explained their situation, Slughorn waved a fat hand in the direction of a cupboard. Ron grabbed two books, sniggering as he tossed Harry the much more shabby of the pair, keeping the near-perfect copy for himself. Harry scowled as he flipped through it; nearly every page was covered in minute writing, each direction annotated or even changed.

Annoyed, Harry began their assignment, the Draught of Living Death, peering at his book and squinting to read the directions past all the scribbles. Halfway through, with his cauldron smoking furiously, Harry noticed that the previous owner of the book had suggested adding an extra turn. Shrugging, for his potion surely couldn't get any worse, Harry followed the suggestion, and to his utmost surprise, his potion improved. So he followed the next amended step. And the next. And by the end, his potion was exactly the shade, smell, and consistency it was supposed to be.

"It's cheating," Hermione muttered waspishly as they headed out of the room.

"I followed the directions in the book. How is that cheating?" Harry retorted, tucking the bottle of Felix Felicis securely in his bag. Draco Malfoy shouldered past him roughly, giving Harry a dark look.

"Not the official directions."

"Give it a rest, Hermione. You're just upset that Harry was better than you for once," said Ron.

Harry stared at his redheaded friend as Hermione sputtered in indignation. Though he suspected Ron was right, he was being unnecessarily harsh.

Hermione was cool toward Ron until they went to bed that night, but the rest of their first week back continued uneventfully. Harry went to classes, did his homework, scheduled the Quidditch tryouts for the second Saturday of the month, and in his free time, pondered what task Voldemort could possibly have set Malfoy. He didn't voice the last bit to anyone, for Ron continued to strongly voice his disbelief and Hermione prevaricated. And so Harry simply waited, rather impatiently, for his upcoming lesson with Dumbledore.

**oOo**

"Come in."

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk. He waved his hand toward the chair in front of the desk, smiling genially. "So, Harry, have you had an enjoyable first week back?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, surreptitiously glancing around the Headmaster's office. He spotted plenty out of the ordinary but nothing that hadn't been there before, nothing to indicate the nature of the lesson.

"I can see you are eager to get started, so let us begin, shall we?" With those words Dumbledore moved to a nearby cupboard, emerging with a familiar stone basin engraved with runes.

Harry eyed it with some suspicion, having had several (unauthorized and unpleasant) experiences with it in previous years. "Memories, sir?"

Dumbledore smiled at his hesitation. "Yes, Harry, memories." With some difficulty due to his curiously injured, blackened right hand, Dumbledore poured a vial of the silvery substance that was thoughts and memories into the Pensieve, and off went he and Harry into the past.

Harry sat in Dumbledore's office some time later, pondering what he had just seen. While it was all very interesting to see Voldemort's ancestors and to learn of his parents' short and unconventional marriage, he didn't understand how this was supposed to help. "Excuse me, sir, but I don't understand."

"What do you not understand?"

"How this is supposed to help me defeat Voldemort."

"Voldemort has many secrets, and uncovering and understanding those secrets are absolutely key to defeating him. It is necessary to go back to the very beginning of his existence to learn what they are."

"And what secrets are those, sir?"

"All in good time, Harry."

Harry waited, but apparently that was all Dumbledore would say. Suppressing a flare of irritation (hadn't Dumbledore promised to be completely honest with him after Sirius?), he decided to move to another topic for the time being. "Sir, I wanted to talk to you about Draco Malfoy."

Dumbledore leaned forward, giving Harry his full attention. "Certainly."

Having carefully planned his speech all week, Harry told the tale of Malfoy for the third time, including all the miniscule details Tonks had pried out of him. "... And so I thought you would want to know, sir," he finished without interruption.

"Indeed." Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, appearing to be in deep thought. "Have you told anyone else about this?"

"I ... yes, Tonks, Ron, and Hermione." That was not what Harry expected him to say.

"Miss Tonks?"

"Yes, when she rescued me from the train. And she said it was worth looking into," Harry added, trying not to appear defensive.

"Indeed," he repeated. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Harry. Was there anything else you needed?"

"Sir?"

"I suggest you forget about Mr. Malfoy, Harry. I do not believe it to be of great importance. Kindly tell Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, and I shall inform Nymphadora her assistance is not required."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. "With all due respect, sir, I disagree. Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater, and he's up to something."

"Did you see the Dark Mark on his arm?"

"No, but –"

"Then you are not being fair, Harry. I promise you that if I see or hear anything regarding Death Eater activity in this school, I will act as needed."

It was a clear dismissal, and again Harry tried to ignore the anger that rose in him. "So you aren't going to do anything about Malfoy? Sir?"

"I will do as I see fit." There was no mistaking the finality of his tone, but Harry wasn't sure what the odd look in the Headmaster's blue eyes was. Disappointment, perhaps?

"And I will, too." With those bold words, Harry rose to leave.

"What do you mean by that?" Dumbledore's tone was as placid and friendly as ever, but Harry was cleanly reminded who was in the position of authority in this room.

His anger was threatening to get the best of him. "I mean it's time I took control of my life. In my fourth year I got stuck in the Triwizard Tournament even though I didn't enter. What would have happened if I refused to participate? Nothing. But I went along with it, and look where that got me. Last year, I never confronted you about your avoidance, never questioned why Occlumency was so important, and we both know how that ended. So I'm done, sir. If you won't stop Malfoy, I'll find someone who will, or I'll do it myself." Harry took a deep breath. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, Professor, but I am asking you to trust me."

"I do trust you, Harry."

"Then why aren't you listening to me? Why won't you tell me why these memories are so important? You won't even tell me what happened to your hand."

Dumbledore hesitated. "I am still gathering the information I need. I promise you, I will tell you as soon as it all comes together."

Harry almost laughed aloud. "You're doing it again, sir."

"What do you mean?"

"You're holding everything in until you deem it time to tell me whatever bits you choose." Harry looked at the door pointedly. "May I go? Sir?"

Dumbledore waved his hand, deep in thought again, and Harry stalked out of the room, furious. Despite his promise last year, it was going to be the same thing. _Let us take care of everything, Harry, even if people around you get hurt. We'll tell you what you need to know eventually. Just be a good boy and do as you're told without questioning it._ Never mind that he had a Dark Lord bent on his destruction. Never mind that he had been tasked with the downfall of said Dark Lord before he even finished school.

"Oh! Sorry, Harry!"

Harry scrambled to his feet. Grabbing his bag, he saw Parvati gathering her books. "Sorry, Parvati. I didn't see you."

"It's okay." Parvati accepted his outstretched hand as he pulled her up. "You looked like you were concentrating."

"Yeah, just, er ... classes and stuff. Looks like we'll be busy this year, huh?" Harry improvised.

Parvati agreed, falling into step with Harry as they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. "I've been at the library since dinner, working on Snape's essay. Did you still want to do the group study tomorrow?"

"I guess, if anyone's interested. Nothing formal like the DA, just some of us doing our homework together. We could meet in the library tomorrow afternoon, that way people from other houses can join, like your sister."

Parvati was enthusiastic about the idea, and she and Harry chatted easily until they reached the common room. Lavender Brown immediately dashed to Parvati's side, pulling her away as she whispered into her ear and giggled, smirking at Harry. Bemused, he joined Ron and Hermione in their usual seats by the fire, where Hermione read a book and Ron obliterated Harry at a game of chess until the common room emptied.

"So what do you reckon?" Harry said after he finished filling them in on Riddle's ancestors.

"We already knew he was Slytherin's heir, didn't we?" said Ron. "The Chamber of Secrets and all."

"Was that it, Harry?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Yeah," he said, still irked. "That's it. No mention of how this would help me. He wouldn't even say what was next. More bloody memories, I suppose."

"Well, they say you should understand your enemies ..." said Hermione uncomfortably.

"We understand that he's a nutjob bent on offing Harry. What more do we need to know?"

"Thanks for that, Ron," said Harry dryly before changing the subject to the point of the night he found more interesting. "And I told him all about Malfoy, but I don't think he believed me."

"What did he say?" questioned Hermione.

"That it wasn't of great importance."

"And we told you, Harry, it's not," said Ron firmly, shaking his head and giving Hermione a look that clearly said 'don't encourage him.' "I know you think he's up to something, but there's no way You-Know-Who would let a teenager join up. What could he possibly expect him to do under the nose of Dumbledore?" He stood up. "Let's go to bed, I'm knackered."

As Ron strode off without seeing if they were following, Hermione leaned toward Harry. "Speaking of Malfoy, have you heard from Tonks at all?"

"No," he replied. "Do you think I should owl her? Just to check?"

Hermione bit her lip in thought. "I don't think so," she finally responded. "It's only been a week, and she's probably busy. I'm sure she hasn't forgotten."

"She's in the Order, though. If Dumbledore tells her to leave it ..."

"I can't say what she'll do." Like Ron, Hermione stood and headed for her staircase. "But we should go to bed. It's late. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Hermione." Harry paused at his own staircase. "Hermione? Do you believe me?"

"I don't know, Harry," she said honestly. "I just don't know."

**oOo**

On the following afternoon the trio headed to the library, Ron unenthusiastic, Hermione pleased, and Harry indifferent. Just because it was his idea didn't mean he looked forward to doing homework; only Hermione was that mental. They were met by Neville, Parvati, and Lavender. The sixth years set to their work quietly, helping each other, soon joined by Ravenclaws Padma Patil and Anthony Goldstein, and Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff.

Harry could tell two problems were about to emerge. The first was that any more students would incur the wrath of Madam Pince, the librarian, who was already hovering suspiciously. The second was that they were unable to get any spellwork in, which was a necessity, particularly for Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. They would have to find a different location. There was always the Room of Requirement, Harry supposed. However, for the time being the group worked, and although his nonverbal incantations were still ineffective, for once he wasn't behind on homework.

Which left him plenty of time to think about other things. Quidditch, for one. Harry was beginning to understand why Oliver Wood was always so stressed. With the tryouts looming, Harry wanted to continue Gryffindor's winning streak, and he spent a lot of time devising new training. Ron, though careful not to assume he still held the position of Keeper, was eager to pitch in with his own ideas, and Hermione grew quite tired of the constant Quidditch discussions over the next week.

The tryouts proved to be a bit more than Harry expected, but once he rid those more interested in gawking at the Chosen One than flying, he decided he had a good team, including Ginny, Ron, and Katie Bell, a seventh year Harry had flown with since he joined the team. Unlike Oliver, Harry decided to take advantage of the reserve spots and train two extra players in case of injuries: Dean Thomas and Gavin Davies, a tall fourth year and cousin of Roger Davies, former Ravenclaw Quidditch captain.

"Listen up, you lot!" Harry bellowed once his new team assembled. "Right, we won the Cup the last two times it was held, and with the team standing here, I don't see why we won't keep that trophy." His teammates clapped and cheered, and Harry grinned, allowing them a moment. "But to get there, we have a lot to do," he continued. "So – laps! No, on foot."

As one, they stared at him, each halfway to mounting his or her broom.

"You mean running, mate?" asked Ron with a look of disbelief.

Harry nodded. "I know Quidditch isn't an intensely physical sport, but I think exercise will help our reflexes and stamina."

"Are you sure, Harry?" Katie said doubtfully. "Oliver never had us do this, and we won the Cup with him."

"I know that. Oliver was a great player and captain, but I want to do things differently. No wiggling diagrams here." He shared a grin with Katie; they were the only two left from the old team.

And that was that. With a minor amount of grumbling, his team lined up, and Harry joined them for a few laps across the long pitch until they all gasped for air, holding their sides (himself included). Then he had Ginny, Katie, and Demelza Robins, his Chasers, fly around the pitch in a three-man (or woman, in this case), weave, passing the Quaffle as they wound in and out. He sent Dean to test Ron in front of the three goal posts, and he kept Gavin with himself, chucking golf balls for Harry to dive and catch as he didn't want to risk the Snitch disappearing. And around them all Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote, his new Beaters, beat a Bludger back and forth, which provided some excitement when it occasionally escaped.

The sun was nearing its zenith by the time Harry called a halt.

"Great job, all of you. Really, fantastic," he told his players, each one sweaty, worn, and slightly sunburned. "Showers and I'll see you all same time next Saturday."

When Harry emerged from his quick shower, starving and hoping lunch was out, he found Ron waiting outside the locker rooms with Lavender, Parvati, and Hermione, who had come to watch the tryouts with others and stuck around during the practice. Much to his annoyance and distraction, Harry had heard Parvati and Lavender giggling throughout.

"It's disgusting," Ron was grousing as Harry approached. "Hanging all over him like a ... like a ..."

"Like a scarlet woman?" Harry supplied, having figured out what was upsetting Ron. Ginny and Dean were ahead of them, arms wrapped around each other as they returned to the castle. "Isn't that what your mum says?"

The girls laughed, but the tips of Ron's ears went pink. "And did you hear Colin Creevey caught them snogging in the common room a few days ago? Snogging! In public! My little sister!"

"I think they make a cute couple," said Lavender, glancing at Ron out of the corner of her eye.

"I think it's gone far enough," Ron muttered darkly. "Reckon I need to have a talk with Dean ..."

"No, you don't," Hermione retorted. "Leave them alone. Ginny would be furious."

"Yeah, don't go mucking about with my team," Harry said firmly. "I don't want my players fighting."

"Is that all you boys care about, your precious Quidditch team?"

Harry shared a look with Ron, always amused by Hermione's indifference to Quidditch. "Well, mostly."

"And food," Ron added, his stomach growling audibly. "You worked us too hard, mate. I'm so hungry I would eat Hagrid's rock cakes."

"How is that different from any other day?" asked Hermione scathingly.

Ron's reply was drowned out by their laughter, and it was in that mood that the group entered the castle, intent on reaching the Great Hall for lunch. As they passed through a courtyard, Harry spotted a familiar head of sleek blond hair hurrying down a corridor. Interestingly, Malfoy was alone; Harry couldn't remember any other time he hadn't been accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle, his usual lackeys.

"Go ahead, I'll catch up," Harry called to the others, slowing. "I have to ... use the loo." Avoiding Hermione's narrowed gaze, Harry quickly headed in the direction of the lone Slytherin. When he rounded a corner, he saw to his satisfaction that not only was Malfoy by himself, but the corridor was otherwise deserted.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" Harry called, and Malfoy stopped suddenly. "And all alone, too?"

Malfoy turned on his heel. "What do you want, Potter?"

Harry moved closer, gripping his wand in plain sight. "You know I heard you on the train," he said, deciding to skip straight to the point. "I know Voldemort gave you a job." Malfoy visibly flinched, and Harry laughed. "What, afraid of your own master's name?" he mocked scornfully. "Oh, that's right. You lot call him the Dark Lord, don't you?"

"And what exactly do you mean by 'you lot?'"

"Come off it, Malfoy. You're a Death Eater."

Malfoy glared at Harry, hatred clear on his face. "_If_ I am, you might want to consider staying out of my way, Potter."

Harry didn't back away. "He gave you a job here at Hogwarts, and I'm going to find out what it is. And, I told both Professor Dumbledore and someone at the Ministry about you." The fact that Dumbledore apparently didn't believe him or that he hadn't heard from Tonks in the intervening two weeks was irrelevant.

There it was, a flicker of ... something in his grey eyes. "Unless you like getting it broken, you need to learn to keep your nose out of other people's business," Malfoy said slowly. "I don't know who rescued you from the train, but you won't always have someone around to save your sorry arse. Not even Dumbledore."

Something about his words chilled Harry. Whatever he intended, he meant to see it through. "I don't need someone to save me, Malfoy. Too bad I can't say the same for you."

Malfoy looked at him for a moment longer, then shook his head slightly. "You don't know anything, Potter." With that he turned and walked away.

Lunch forgotten, Harry watched Malfoy disappear from sight. Though Malfoy's exterior was as arrogant as ever, he acted almost like he didn't have time to bother with Harry, which was a far cry from the bullying of the previous five years. In fact, he couldn't remember Malfoy ever walking away unless a teacher was around. Harry stood in the corridor for a long time, wondering what task could possibly have affected Draco Malfoy so much.


	3. Change

**Change**

Despite his lack of progress in discovering and blocking Malfoy's plan, Harry was pleased with the other aspects of his life. He bumped up Quidditch practice to three times a week, adding more new training exercises, and the results showed clear improvement. Their November match against Slytherin was all but in the bag. The study group he had proposed was paying off as well; though nowhere near Hermione-levels, his marks were better than they'd ever been.

The group now encompassed nearly the entire sixth year with the notable exception of the Slytherins, with occasional fifth and seventh years stopping in. Harry had finally approached Professor McGonagall after Madam Pince was nearly brought to tears at their takeover of her library, and the teacher had given them permission to use her classroom, expressing her surprise and approval of Harry's new determination.

It was there that Harry left one Sunday afternoon as September drew to a close. Though her books were still strewn over the table, Parvati claimed she was also finished, and after a hasty scramble, she accompanied Harry on his way back to Gryffindor Tower, talking about their summers. They were on the Grand Staircase when Harry happened to glance over at the corridor that led to the Headmaster's Office and spotted a familiar head of purple hair.

"Tonks? Hey, Tonks!" Harry started off after the Auror, leaving Parvati behind. "I'll see you later, Parvati," he called over his shoulder.

Tonks waited patiently for Harry to reach her. "Wotcher, Harry," she said with a smile, though she looked distinctly put out.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with frank curiosity.

"Had a meeting with Dumbledore," she replied succinctly. "Pretty."

"Am I?"

Tonks grinned. "Sure, but that girl you were with. She's pretty."

Harry turned around, watching Parvati slowly walk away. "Oh, that's Parvati. She's a Gryffindor, too, in my year. I, uh, I guess she's nice-looking." Harry hadn't really considered Parvati's looks since their fourth year, but she had long, shiny, dark hair, and wide, dark brown eyes.

"She fancies you," Tonks remarked matter-of-factly.

Harry dismissed her with a shake of his head. "No, we're just friends. I took her to the Yule Ball in fourth year, but that was nothing."

Tonks chuckled. "Harry, trust me on this – the girl is into you. The way she looked when you blew her off for me? Bad form, Harry, bad form."

Harry glanced back at where Parvati had been. Tonks had to be wrong about that. He did suspect Lavender liked Ron, which was probably why Parvati had been spending more time with him this term. Given Hermione and Ron's obvious-to-everyone-but-themselves feelings, this would cause some problems. The question was –

"Well, I'm sure I'll be seeing you, Harry," said Tonks, interrupting his inner monologue and walking away down the corridor.

"Wait, Tonks!" Harry quickly followed her. "I've been wondering if you've thought about what I told you after you pulled me off the train."

Tonks glanced around furtively, but they were alone. "Yes, I have. Sorry I've not been in contact, but I didn't want to get your hopes up until I had something concrete."

"So do you have something?" Harry said uncertainly. "Concrete, I mean? You're doing something to stop him?"

Tonks grimaced. "Yes. And no."

"Yes and no," Harry repeated glumly. "Why do I not like the sound of this?"

"What you need to know, Harry, is that it's an ongoing investigation. What you told me is not enough –" Tonks raised her voice slightly over Harry's protests, sending him a hushing look. "Let me finish. It's not enough to warrant an arrest. You didn't see a Dark Mark, he didn't come out and say anything specific, he hasn't actually done anything. But what he did say along with the company his parents keep and a little unrelenting prodding from yours truly was enough to convince Robards to let me take a closer look."

"So you're ... watching?" Harry was torn. It was more than Dumbledore's dismissal but less than he hoped.

"Oh, I'm watching, alright." Her look of annoyance returned. "You are looking at the newest Hogwarts resident."

"You?"

"In the ever-morphing flesh. I have been removed from Hogsmeade and stationed at Hogwarts permanently, or at least until this year is over," she explained unenthusiastically. "Sleeping, eating, drinking, breathing, twenty-four seven, or nearly so. You're about to see a lot more of me."

"I suppose that wouldn't be too terrible." Harry grinned at Tonks, then considered the idea. "Maybe the close presence of an Auror will scare Malfoy off whatever he's supposed to do."

She inclined her head in agreement. "That's the hope."

Harry frowned. "Tonks, not to be rude, but is that it? Seems like you're just waiting and hoping he doesn't do anything."

"I know," she said with obvious frustration. "It's not enough. Don't –" She broke off, watching a young Ravenclaw pass by, waiting until the girl moved around the corner before continuing. "Don't tell anyone this, okay, Harry? I shouldn't even say anything to you, but I trust you and I feel like you deserve to know."

"Okay," Harry promised, his interest piqued, flattered by her confidence.

Tonks put her arm around Harry's shoulder and leaned in, speaking in a low voice. "We're trying to get permission to raid Borgin and Burkes, and question Borgin, to see if we can discover what he's keeping for Malfoy. But this is strictly top secret, right? Don't tell anyone, not even Ron or Hermione."

He nodded. "Absolutely."

"Good. If You-Know-Who –"

"Not you, too, Tonks?" Harry scolded. "It's _Voldemort_."

Tonks winced, glaring at him. "Fine. If Vo-Voldemort finds out we're on to Malfoy, he'll kill him. I don't much care for any Malfoy, but I don't want him to be offed, baddie or not. At least not until we figure out what he's doing."

Despite his intense dislike of the Slytherin, Harry had to agree. "Tonks, when you said 'we' are trying to get permission, who's 'we'?"

"My team," she answered. "Aurors each have a partner, and we're grouped into teams. We do all our investigations together. Robards knows about the case as well, but only my team knows your involvement. They're good men, Harry, and I trust them with my life. Trust me."

"I do," he replied, feeling a rush of affection for his old friend. Not Dumbledore, not even Ron or Hermione had displayed the level of faith in him that Tonks demonstrated.

"Out of curiosity, who have you told besides Dumbledore?"

"Just Ron and Hermione, and they're not too keen on the idea." Harry gave her a sideways glance. "Dumbledore did talk to you, then? He told he me he would."

She made a low noise in her throat. "He did," she confirmed in a clipped tone.

"And?"

"And let's say he's not happy with me these days. Pulled me aside at an Order meeting, asked me to forget you ever talked to me, and was none too pleased when I not only told him to bugger off, I involved the Ministry."

"Did you actually tell him to bugger off?" Harry was impressed; few people ever stood up to the Headmaster.

"Of course not, but I did tell him I didn't appreciate him trying to tell me how to do my job. He was ever so courteous, but I could tell he was displeased." Tonks lapsed into silence, staring at the opposite wall in contemplation. "Bit unsettling, innit?"

"To be in opposition to Dumbledore?" said Harry. "Yeah. I used to think he knew everything."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "The man doesn't shit rainbows, Harry, but I agree that he's lost his touch. And if our leader's off his game, where does that leave us?"

Harry was too busy laughing to answer, letting the wall support him. He knew Tonks often had a unique was of putting things, but it caught him by surprise every time. "I think I'll like having you around, Tonks. Entertainment value if nothing else."

Tonks gasped in outrage. "Harry Potter, I'm awesome. If you think I'm simply good entertainment, we need to spend more time together."

"Well, here you are," Harry offered, grinning.

"Indeed. It must be fate," she replied dryly, discontent marring her features once again.

Harry couldn't restrain his curiosity any longer. "Tonks, what has your knickers in a twist?"

"Nothing. I'm not wearing any," she replied cheekily, winking.

"I don't need to know that," Harry mumbled, flushing, hoping she was joking. "Only you look upset."

Tonks blew out her breath. "I can't deny I'm less than excited about this new assignment. Career-wise, it's great that I'm getting the lead on this case, but it promises to be boring. Hogsmeade was one thing; at least I had my mates and could grab a pint after my shifts. Here, well, I'm all alone."

"What am I, chopped liver?" Harry asked with mock indignation.

"Oh, pardon me, Harry. I completely forgot about you." Her voice took on a high, girlish tone. "Why, my life will be complete if I can only catch a glimpse of the Chosen One. Be still, my beating heart."

"See? You'll be fine." He ignored her use of the hated nickname, knowing she was simply teasing.

"Yes, I expect to survive, with only slightly less sanity. And on that note, while I would love nothing more than to chat with you all day, I have things to do to get ready. Until next time, mate. If you need me, I'll be around."

"You'll keep me updated, won't you?"

"Of course." With a friendly pat on the arm, Tonks walked off, and Harry headed in the opposite direction, cheered by their conversation and pleased that the Ministry, unlike Dumbledore or Mr. Weasley, took him seriously.

**oOo**

The permanent presence of an Auror in the castle caused some talk over the next few days. Many people were convinced that Hogwarts was in danger from an imminent attack; others claimed this was nothing more than another effort by the Ministry to interfere in the school. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the only ones who knew the truth lay somewhere in the middle, though Ron was increasingly derisive of both Harry's suspicions about Malfoy, and oddly enough, Tonks's connection.

The fact that said Auror was female, prone to unique hair choices, and at least a decade younger than any of the staff only increased the gossip, particularly among the male population, though they weren't the only ones. Harry swore he saw Millicent Bulstrode blush after Tonks bumped into her before dinner one night, patting the stocky Slytherin girl on the shoulder with a smile and apology.

The Metamorphmagus was always around, sitting at the staff table for every meal, and could be spotted in the corridors at all hours of the day, occasionally even quietly popping into classes. She always had a cheery smile and wave for Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys, taking the chance to chat with them whenever they met. Harry watched Malfoy closely, and though he didn't seem alarmed by Tonks, he also didn't appear secretive, reverting to the cocky bully he had always been. Though Harry was far too pessimistic to think this was the end of it, he had some hope that perhaps Malfoy was getting cold feet.

**oOo**

Harry stared broodingly at the pensieve in front of him. When Dumbledore summoned him to another lesson, Harry had little hope it would be any different from the first, and he was right.

"I have taken into consideration your ... eagerness from our last lesson, and so we will be discussing more than I previously planned," Dumbledore said pleasantly, ignoring the sullen air of his pupil. "Shall we?"

Without a word Harry jerked his head curtly and followed the Headmaster into the stone basin. This time, Harry saw Dumbledore himself visit young Tom Riddle at the orphanage he grew up in. He saw disturbing evidence of Riddle's employment at Borgin and Burkes, and he saw an older Riddle denied employment at Hogwarts in the very office Harry sat in. When the memories were finished, he dutifully listened as Dumbledore added more details. Harry couldn't deny that he was intrigued by Riddle's past, particularly his clear desire to work at Hogwarts, but it was his association with Borgin and Burkes that interested him the most.

"There are a few items in particular that I wish you to remember, Harry," said Dumbledore. "One, Tom Riddle demonstrated an interest in trophies at a young age – the mice, the mouth organ – and he maintained that tendency into adulthood, proving he would stop at nothing to acquire that which he desired."

"The locket."

Dumbledore beamed. "Precisely."

"And he worked at Borgin and Burkes," Harry added.

Dumbledore smiled again, nodding. "Where he came into contact with not only many collectors of historical artifacts, such as Hepzibah Smith, but rare and highly prized objects themselves."

"Objects that Borgin might still have," Harry said, leaning forward. "Objects that Voldemort ordered him to keep safe, until Malfoy –"

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted quietly, frowning. "I asked you not to dwell on Draco Malfoy. This has nothing to do with him and is far more important."

"Do I get a say in this, sir?" Harry asked bitterly. New day, same story. Dumbledore regarded him steadily, one eyebrow raised. "Or are you going to continue with whatever you have planned, ignoring me?"

"I have not been ignoring you." Did the man ever get upset?

"But you have. Oh, you're talking to me, which is better than last year." He was too jaded to be truly angry. "But you're talking to me about what you want to tell me. Not about what I want to tell you, not about any of my questions, and sure as hell not about how to stay alive."

Harry was struck by how very old the Headmaster appeared. His withered hand, the wrinkles on his face, the eyes that were tired instead of piercing. "I do not have all the answers yet, but I told you this would very much help you stay alive."

"How?" Harry stood up suddenly. "When he casts a Killing Curse at me, will I be able to think about the orphanage and block it? When he captures Ron or Hermione, will I be able to bring up Hokey the house-elf and save them? How?"

"You're angry." Dumbledore rubbed his forehead wearily. "I think we should continue this another time."

"We're not equals, Professor, but it's my life, my destiny, and I have the right to have a say in it, as much as is possible with the bloody prophecy." He shook his head, almost feeling like laughing. "Maybe you are right and I'm wrong, and if I realize that, I'll come right back. But until then, I don't think we should continue this conversation. Sir."

Harry was halfway out the door when Dumbledore's voice, as neutral as Switzerland, stopped him. "May I ask what you plan to do in the meantime, Harry?"

He took a long time to answer. "Whatever I have to."

Despite the late hour, Harry didn't head back to his dorm, choosing instead to wander the castle in discouragement. It looked more and more like he was on his own, and at this point it seemed like his only option was to bide his time and keep his friends out of it. He had been stupid to think good marks and exercise would somehow help. Harry wasn't arrogant; he had learned his limits at the Department of Mysteries. If Voldemort wanted someone dead, then that person was dead.

Out of pure luck Harry avoided detection for at least half an hour, lost in his gloom. It took him several seconds to realize that someone was at his side, calling his name.

"Earth to Harry ... don't make me jinx you, Potter."

"What? Oh, hey, Tonks. Why are you here?"

"My job, remember? Patrol, patrol, patrol. Question is, my dear Harry, what are you doing here reeking of teen angst? Ron and Hermione having a go at each other again?" She grinned, but Harry was in no mood.

"No," he said shortly. "I had a meeting with Dumbledore."

"I see. For fear of sounding terribly adult, you're supposed to be in your dorm. All sorts of unpleasant things roam the castle at night. Filch and prefects and bored Aurors, oh my!"

Sometimes Tonks's jocularity was singularly annoying. "Fine. I'll head back right now."

He spun on his heel and headed for the seventh floor but didn't get too far before she spoke again, tentatively this time. "Harry?"

"What?" he ground out.

Tonks walked to his side again. She made as if to touch his arm, but instead she fiddled with her wand. "Do you need to talk?"

_Not in the slightest,_ Harry wanted to say. He was sick to death of talking. It hadn't gotten him anywhere thus far. But at the same time, the concern was clear on her heart-shaped face, and her very presence in the castle reminded him that Tonks, at least, had tried to help him out. "I do, actually. I do need to talk." And with that they stood on the sixth floor as Tonks simply listened. Harry told her everything – the prophecy, the memories, Dumbledore's actions (or lack thereof) over the last two years, all the way up to that night.

Tonks took a very measured breath when he finished. "Fuckin' hell, Harry. If I had a drink I'd share. No wonder you look ready to curse the next person who looks at you in the wrong way." And because she was Tonks, she hugged him tightly, though he was supremely surprised when she brushed his cheek with a light kiss. "I mean, we all kind of suspected something like a prophecy, but really, damn. Just ... blimey."

"Blimey," he echoed with a ghost of a smile. "That's one way of putting it."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"About what? The prophecy?" She nodded. "What do you expect me to do, Tonks? I'm a sixteen-year-old wizard with decent marks facing the most powerful dark wizard out there. My only real talent is on a broom, so unless he plans a Quidditch match to the death, I'm kind of screwed. So what I'm going to do is attempt to delay the inevitable and stay alive as long as I can while trying to make sure no one else gets hurt because of me."

For the briefest second, Harry thought he saw a look of pain in her eyes, but then she simply shrugged. "Okay. In that case, can I have your Firebolt when you're gone?"

Harry was startled. "Um, sure, whatever."

"Excellent." She grinned. "I've always wanted one, but the salary of a rookie Auror, while good, does not leave room for top of the line racing brooms. So when are you planning on kicking the bucket?"

"Forget it, Tonks," he snapped, striding away angrily. "I didn't expect you to act like it's a big joke."

"What did you expect, then?" Her voice rang through the corridor. Harry stopped and turned around, searching for something to say. Tonks moved toward him, her grin vanishing. "You've apparently made up your mind that you're doomed, so why would I waste my time trying to convince you that you're not? If all you wanted was someone to give you a pity party, then you're talking to the wrong person. Go find one of your fangirls." With that Tonks pivoted and headed the way they'd come.

Harry hesitated for a split second before chasing after her. "Wait, Tonks!"

She turned so quickly Harry had to flail his arms to avoid crashing into her. "Yes?"

"I ... the truth is, I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about this." His voice trailed off, and he leaned against the wall next to a window. "I don't want to die."

"Oh, Harry." Her arms were around him again, warm and comforting. "I don't want you to die, either. I'm sorry I joked."

"But how am I supposed to defeat him? I'm just an average wizard, not even qualified. I need help, but I can't seem to find any." He hated sounding like a whiny child, but if he had a choice between begging for help or facing Voldemort as is, he'd take help any day.

Tonks hopped up onto the sill of the window, swinging her feet. "First off, I think you're underestimating yourself a bit. Average wizards do not conjure Patronuses in third year or fight off Death Eaters at the age of fifteen. You have great instincts, a good amount of talent, and determination to the point of recklessness."

"Stop, Tonks, you'll make me blush," Harry joked, grateful for a return to their normal teasing conversations.

"Any day I can do that is a good day," she quipped. "But I'm not the only one who thinks you're good. Mad-Eye, Kingsley, Remus, even McGonagall – they all think very highly of you."

"Is that what you do at Order meetings? Discuss my talents and failings?"

"That about covers it." Harry blanched, and Tonks laughed. "Sorry, Harry, we do occasionally have more important things to discuss than you. Anyway, so accept the fact that you're slightly smarter than a troll. Thankfully you've also got good looks. And then, for the love of Merlin, decide that living isn't all that bad. I hear it can actually be fun at times. Because until you get your messy head on straight, you might as well keep waving that little white flag."

"So the power of positive thinking will led me to victory over Voldemort? Gee, that's about as helpful as Dumbledore and his power of love," said Harry sarcastically. "Ow!"

She glared at him after smacking him on the head. "Actually, maybe. At least if you think you have a fighting chance, you might decide to improve the odds. Better than feeling sorry for yourself."

"And how exactly am I supposed to improve myself? Don't think Snape's going to be open to extra Defense lessons. That went so well last year."

"Well, Sevvie's a git, we all know that," she agreed affably. "McG, perhaps. She's bound to have –"

"Sevvie and McG?" Harry interrupted, chortling. "I bet they love those."

Tonks grinned impishly. "Sevvie particularly does, almost as much as Snivellus. Anyway, she's bound to have guessed at the prophecy like me. And she may look older than Noah, but according to Mad-Eye she's a badass. And then ... I don't know, maybe Remus or someone else can come up on your Hogsmeade weekends and give you some dueling pointers. Not too hard to break into the Shrieking Shack."

"Or you," Harry blurted out, having come to a sudden realization.

She blinked. "Or me what?"

"You can train me." It was a stroke of brilliance. Tonks was an Auror, trained specifically to fight Dark Wizards, and she was already in the castle.

She laughed, startling Harry. "That's funny, Harry."

He locked his gaze on her. "I wasn't trying to be."

"You're serious?"

"Why not? You're here all the time, you're an Auror, and, you know, I like you."

She smiled. "I like you, too, Harry, and I wouldn't mind spending more time with my favorite Boy-Who-Lived."

"Favorite when compared to all the others?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "You're ten times better. But seriously, I don't think this is a good idea. I couldn't even duel Bellatrix to a stand."

"But you're a qualified Auror, trained by Mad-Eye Moody. You could defeat anyone in this castle except for Dumbledore."

"I don't know about that. And I don't think he or the Ministry would approve."

"Yes, I know you've always been concerned with whether or not the Ministry approves. And I'm sure it would involve me breaking some rules here at Hogwarts, so that wouldn't interest you either." Her eyes gleamed, and for a moment he thought he had her.

"I don't give a rat's arse about castle rules or the Ministry, but I would not agree to something like this simply for that reason." She grinned wryly. "I uphold the law. I've slightly outgrown the thrill of rule-breaking."

Harry smiled, then his expression turned serious. "Tonks, if you don't help me, no one will."

She was quiet for a moment. "Okay, I'll _think_ about it."

"Yes!" Harry hugged her tightly.

"I said 'think'!" she qualified, muffled by his shoulder.

"I know. You're great, Tonks."

"I'm glad you're catching on."

**oOo**

"Why didn't you tell Harry about the prophecy?" Tonks blurted out the instant the door closed. She had had to restrain herself from confronting the Headmaster the instant she left Harry, approaching him at breakfast the next morning to set up a meeting.

Dumbledore looked mildly surprised. "Harry told you about the prophecy."

"Yeah, he did," Tonks confirmed. "Why didn't you tell him sooner?"

"When would you have had me tell him, Nymphadora?" Dumbledore looked at her penetratingly. "When he arrived at Hogwarts, barely eleven years old?"

Tonks put her hands on the back of a chair, leaning forward. "How about when Voldemort returned? How about the minute you realized he would go after the prophecy?"

"I made a mistake. I admitted that to Harry." Dumbledore was calm, and it infuriated her.

"Yes, he told me you cared too much for his happiness," spat Tonks bitterly. "Funny thing, though. He's not too happy now that Sirius is dead, is he?"

"I don't know what you want me to say," Dumbledore said with the first trace of impatience. "I've told both you and Harry that I made a mistake. I wish that I could change it, but I can't."

"With all due respect, what the hell, sir?"

He took a seat behind his desk with a sigh. "You'll have to forgive an old man, Nymphadora, for I don't understand your meaning."

Normally Tonks tolerated Dumbledore's persistent use of her given name (he was Dumbledore, after all), but today she wasn't in a tolerant mood. "It's Tonks, sir, and what I mean is how could you possibly have that knowledge and not do anything about it?"

"Do not presume I am resting on my laurels." There was no mistaking the hint of warning in his tone. "I have been preparing Harry to face Tom Riddle, though it may not be what he expected."

Tonks knew she was on thin ice, but she skated ahead recklessly. "Playing in the pensieve," she snapped sarcastically.

"I would think that you, as an Auror, would understand the importance of knowing one's opponents," Dumbledore said, leaning forward. "Though I must express my surprise that Harry confided in you. I did ask him to limit this to Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. Tell me, are you and Harry close?"

"I – um, yeah, I reckon. We've known each other, in a manner of speaking, since I was at Hogwarts myself." Tonks was confused.

"Interesting. I was not aware of that." Again, he seemed genuinely surprised. "How did you meet?"

"We were both out of bed one night and played hide and seek with Filch together."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I see. And did you spend any time together prior to your involvement with the Order?"

"A bit. We have a tendency to bump into each other." Why was this important? "Sir, what does this have to do with the prophecy?"

"Well, Nymphadora, can I rightly infer that you and Harry have become friends over the years? You patently care about his well-being."

"Yeah, we're mates. Harry's great." Her confusion was rapidly reverting to irritation.

His eyes were intense, so blue, less of their usual sparkle. "Then please trust me as someone who cares about Harry just as much, if not more."

"I do trust you, but I don't think you're doing enough," Tonks protested. Restless with frustration, she strode to the window and stared into the dark. "Watching You-Know-Who's formative years is not enough to defeat him. Harry's ability to love others is not enough. Standing by while Draco Malfoy runs loose with a Death Eater plot is not bloody enough!"

"Again, please do not assume that you know all my plans." Dumbledore spread his hands, standing up as well. "I ask you to trust me. That is all I can tell you."

Tonks opened her mouth to argue again, but she snapped it closed. There was no point in talking to a brick wall. Dumbledore was convinced he was right. Maybe he was, but she didn't think so.

"Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?" he continued pleasantly as if they hadn't just finished with a disagreement.

Tonks had to admit defeat, or at least an impasse. "No, Professor. I'll see you at dinner."

Walking past the gargoyles outside the Headmaster's office, Tonks shoved her hands in her pockets, brooding. It just didn't make sense. Ever since she joined the Order, it seemed like Dumbledore had an end game, an ace in the hole. If Harry was supposed to be that card, how could he be if no one pushed him to that point? It certainly put his request in a new light.

Tonks roamed the halls of Hogwarts for a long time that night, wondering who was the one making a mistake.

**oOo**

Harry had no intention of letting Tonks forget his appeal for help. A few days later, he lingered after dinner until he saw her rise from the staff table. Leaving Ron and Hermione in his wake, he timed his approach to meet her at the doors to the Entrance Hall, but she shook her head as soon as he reached her.

"Later," she muttered, sending him on his way with a tousle of his hair.

Later never came, so once his roommates were asleep, Harry dug in his trunk and pulled out the Marauder's Map, which showed the location of everyone in the castle. After several minutes of searching, he spotted a dot labeled 'Nymphadora Tonks' pacing the Astronomy Tower. Pleased she wasn't in bed, Harry ducked under his invisibility cloak and sped out of his dorm.

He reached her still in the Astronomy Tower. Remaining under the cloak, Harry crept up behind her as stealthily as possible. "Out for a late night stroll?" he whispered over her shoulder.

He caught a glimpse of a wand and a startled face before everything went black.

"_Ennervate_."

Harry blinked, trying to make the pink-haired face above him stop moving. His head ached, and he seemed to be laying on a cold stone floor. He groaned. "What happened?"

"I should ask you that. Don't sneak up on an Auror in the middle of the night, mate." She grinned. "If I was Mad-Eye, you'd be missing valuable body parts as well as being stunned. Right, on your feet, and you can tell me why you're here." Tonks reached down, grabbing both his hands and yanking him up. He felt her thumb rub across the scars on the back of his right hand, once, twice, and too late he jerked it away. "Harry," she said, her tone guarded. "What's the scar on your hand?"

"It's nothing," he lied quickly. "Just scratched it at Quidditch practice the other day."

She regarded him for a long moment, then shrugged slightly. Relieved, Harry made to turn away, but quick as a Snitch her hand shot out and grabbed his. He squirmed and tried to jerk away, but she retained her grip with astonishing strength, twisting his arm around until he gasped.

"Let me look at your hand," she told him slowly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

They locked gazes; if it was possible to argue with her eyes, Tonks was doing so. Harry gave in with a grunt of frustration and allowed Tonks to examine his hand. She traced the scars slowly with a fingernail, a sensation that made him shiver, and he could see her lips mouthing the words.

"I must not tell lies," she mumbled softly, finally releasing his hand. When she looked at him, Harry was startled by the fury in her blue eyes, but when she spoke, her tone was gentle. "Harry, do the Muggles you live with ever hurt you?"

"The Dursleys? No," he said, surprised at her direction of thought. "Dudley used to beat me up when we were kids, but that's it."

"And who did this?"

Harry looked away, but Tonks reached out and tugged his chin back around so he was looking at her. "Umbridge. Last year, when she was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"How?"

"She had a special quill." Harry figured he might as well tell the entire story. "She didn't believe that Voldemort was back, and when I spoke up, she made me write lines with her quill. Whatever I wrote was carved into my hand."

"'I must not tell lies'?" He nodded. "Did you ever tell a teacher?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?" she demanded.

"I – well – I don't know." He pulled away, walking a circle restlessly. "At the time, I didn't want her to know that she got to me. In a way, if I complained, it was like she won."

"Damn, Harry, there's a time and a place to be stubborn." Tonks shook her head at him, but an odd sparkle had returned to her eyes, like a wry sort of admiration. "You've got to do something."

"Uh, what?"

"Press charges! You can't let her get away with this."

Strangely, once it was over Harry had never considered the idea of telling anyone about Umbridge's sadistic punishment. "Could she go to jail?" he asked, savoring the idea of Umbridge rotting away in Azkaban.

"If I have anything to say about it." Tonks grinned rather maliciously. "Y'know, if I keep hanging around you, I'll get promoted. Keep handing me all these cases ..."

"Would you be the one to handle it?"

"Search me." She furrowed her brow, frowning. "My first thought is to say no; though nearly as evil as one gets, she's not a dark wizard. She prefers evil of the legal variety, like her lovely anti-werewolf legislation. But on the flip side, a blood quill ... that's got to be dark magic. I'll have to make some inquiries." Turning her gaze to Harry, she put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you serious about this? Because I'll go full speed ahead. If it goes to trial, you'll have to testify."

"Tonks, I will do whatever it takes to lock this woman up," he said grimly. There was a part of him inside that whooped for joy, but Harry was far too cynical about the Ministry to truly expect them to send one of their own to Azkaban.

She nodded her head once, tapping her chin with a finger thoughtfully. "Right. We'll need witnesses, possibly a pensieve account, make sure Fudge doesn't get wind. Definitely have to get the right people on this. Damn, I miss Amelia Bones."

"She was at my trial last year," Harry remarked. "She seemed nice. Her niece is in my year, a Hufflepuff."

"Yeah, Amelia was cool, in her own way. Definitely fair." Tonks stared off into space, shaking her head again. "Umbridge. That woman. That ..." And she launched into a litany of nearly every curse Harry had ever heard, ending on a word that would have stopped Peeves in his tracks.

He whistled. "Blimey, Tonks, do you let your parents hear you talk like that?"

"Not if I want to live," she replied with a low chuckle. "I knew she was a horrible person, but, Merlin's sweet arse, this is far beyond the realm of even my considerable imagination."

"Trust me, she's awful," said Harry fervently.

"I know. She's greatly disliked around the Ministry, only got to where she is because of Fudge. I'm fairly certain they've been going at it for years."

Harry coughed and laughed at the same time. "Thanks for that mental picture."

"You're welcome. We've had our fair share of run-ins. I might have once done a rather uncanny impression of Umbridge. On her knees. In front of a bar of Honeyduke's finest. And probably because I am, after all, nothing more than a filthy half-blood shape-shifter."

"Why do people always dislike those who are different?" Harry complained. "Isn't that a big tenant of Death Eater philosophy? Blood purity and all that mess."

"Sometimes people can't understand those who are different, and people fear what they can't understand," Tonks said wisely. "Of all base passions, fear is the most accursed."

Harry regarded her, impressed. "Very insightful, Tonks."

"Why so surprised?" she demanded.

Harry cast about for a good way to put his thoughts. "You have a tendency to put things more, ah ..."

"Crudely? Goes to show how much you know about me," she retorted, sticking out her tongue. "Can't a girl be eloquent when she wants?"

"No," Harry said solemnly, trying to hide a smile. "It's against the rules."

"Oh, is it?" She grabbed for him, but Harry darted out of her reach, both laughing.

They stopped abruptly as the shine of a lantern appeared around the end of the corridor, the bobbing of the circle of light evidencing its movement. Harry quickly ducked under the invisibility cloak while Tonks leaned against the wall nonchalantly. It was Filch, and his shuffling picked up speed when he spotted Tonks, apparently all alone.

"What you doing out this time of night?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm patrolling, Filch," she said, drawing out his name, and Harry could imagine the joy she, as a former troublemaking student, got out of talking to the caretaker as an equal. "It's my job."

"I heard laughter." He looked around, and Harry drew back. "Thought there were students out of bed."

"Haven't seen any." She shrugged. "And I was the one laughing."

"You? Laughing?"

"Yes, Filch, it's what people do when they're amused. You ought to try it sometime. Maybe you could teach Mrs. Norris some tricks to entertain you."

On cue, the cat twined around Filch's ankles hissed, and Filch himself looked scandalized by the idea. He growled, "Carry on, er –"

"Auror Tonks," she supplied helpfully, barely bothering to restrain a wide grin.

Filch simply jerked his head and shuffled out of sight, muttering to Mrs. Norris as he went. Watching him go, Tonks began to head in the opposite direction, whistling cheerfully.

"Have fun?" Harry asked once they were safely away, deciding to keep the cloak on.

"Most I've had for weeks." She giggled. "That's one good thing about being back here. I can backtalk all I want, no detentions."

Tonks's tales of misadventures at Hogwarts, intermingled with Harry's own, carried them all the way back to the portrait of the Fat Lady, where Tonks bid him good night.

"Before you go," Harry began. "Have you thought any more about what I asked you to do?"

"Demanding sort, aren't you?" she teased. "Investigate Malfoy, press charges against Umbridge, train me." She grinned, but it faded into a serious expression. "I have. The thing is, Harry, when it comes down to it, there's no way I could defeat V-Voldemort. And that's what you need. The only one that could possibly do that is Dumbledore."

"And you know exactly what he's doing about that. Nothing," Harry argued. He held out his hands at two different levels. "You're up there, and I'm down here. At least the higher I get, the better I am, the better chance I have. The longer I stay alive."

Tonks drew in her breath suddenly, biting her lip. She looked at him, and he noticed she had changed her eyes to a stormy grey that reminded him of something he couldn't quite place. "Harry, I'll do whatever I can to help you."

"Does that mean ...?"

"Fine, I'll train you."

"Yes!" Harry swept Tonks into a tight hug, unbelievably relieved that she gave in, that he would finally get someone to help him against Voldemort. "When do we start?"

"I'll let you know. I have a lot to do, make plans, start an inquiry on Umbridge, and follow up on the Malfoy investigation. We'll have to find a place, and of course keep it under the teacher radar." Tonks was ticking items off on her fingers, talking more to herself than Harry.

"Let me take care of where. I have the perfect place." Harry needed to buy Dobby another pair of socks for revealing the Room of Requirement to him.

Tonks, still mumbling to herself, raised her eyebrows. "Okay then. You're going to lose some sleep, y'know?"

"This is more important than sleep." Harry paused before waking up the Fat Lady. "You have no idea how much this means to me. I don't know how to thank you."

She grinned cheerfully. "You'll think of a way, don't worry. And we'll see if you're still thanking me after I give you a dose of Auror training. Remember, Mad-Eye trained me."

Harry swallowed. He had forgotten that.


	4. Training

**Training**

Much to Harry's delight, Tonks didn't waste any time. On the first day of October, she literally bumped into him leaving the Great Hall after breakfast. When he helped her off the floor, a slip of parchment slid from her hand to his. Under cover of the general chaos that was Charms, he read it surreptitiously under his desk.

_Midnight. Fat Lady. Bring your invisibility cloak – if you scare me again I will make you cry._

Having plenty of experience sneaking out of the common room late at night, Harry worried he would have difficulty, but it was one of those rare nights where everyone turned in fairly early. Ron was already snoring by the time Harry slipped out.

A whistling Tonks was leaning against the opposite wall when he appeared. She had dropped the black robes she normally wore around the castle in favor of maroon shorts and a sleeveless white shirt, both emblazoned with the Ministry of Magic emblem. Some sort of official uniform, Harry guessed._  
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"Wotcher. Any problems?"

"None."

"Excellent. You said you'd take care of where, so lead on, good sir." Tonks slipped her hand around his arm as they walked, holding onto him companionably. "So, where is where?"

"The Room of Requirement," he told her.

"Cool." A long pause. "What's that?"

How to explain the Room of Requirement? "There is a room in the castle that can be whatever you need it to be," said Harry slowly. "Have you ever, on a mission, thought of something you absolutely wished you'd brought with you?"

"Like a proper loo? Yes."

Harry sniggered at her answer. "The castle provides it. It's amazing, really. As long as you concentrate really hard on exactly what function you want it to have, it's there."

"Say you very much desired a broom closet one day, and you simply happened upon one. This Room of Requirement?"

"Possibly." Harry gave her a sideways glance. "What did you want a broom closet so badly for?"

Tonks simply smirked. "How do you know about this room?"

"A house-elf told me. We used it last year for ..."

"Your Defense Against the Dark Arts group? Sirius talked about it all the time," she said, correctly interpreting his questioning look. "He was bursting with pride over the rebellion of his godson."

Harry felt like his face would split with his grin. Sirius had been proud of him? "What did he say?" he asked eagerly.

He tried very hard not to feel jealous as he listened to Tonks talk about Sirius. She was his cousin and had just as much of a right to spend time with him as Harry did. It wasn't her fault Harry was stuck at school while she, it appeared, spent most of her free time last year at Grimmauld Place.

"Here it is," he broke in tightly when they reached a certain bare stretch of wall on the seventh floor. "Since I have no idea what you have planned, you go ahead. Walk back and forth three times, and focus on exactly what you want to do inside the room. And to be on the safe side, include something about not being found in your instructions."

Biting her lip in concentration, Tonks followed his directions, and on her third pace a large wooden door appeared in the stone wall.

"This is it," said Harry, leading the way.

The room was large and open, the floor covered with cushy mats. One long wall was nothing but mirrors, and at one end of the room stood several large wooden dummies. A small ledge appeared high on the far wall.

"Brilliant," Tonks breathed, looking around slowly. "This is exactly what I imagined. It's quite like our training room at the Ministry." She made a few experimental hops on the mats, apparently satisfied.

"Good. So ... what exactly are we going to do?"

"What do you want to learn?"

"Um ..." She had caught him off guard. "Dueling, I guess. Anything that would help me in a fight. Oh, and that patronus message spell. Definitely that."

She was nodding. "Okay, I can do that. I have some things in mind; I was simply curious about what you expected. First things first – stretch. You'll be sore enough as it is." She began a series of rather intricate stretching moves that Harry clumsily attempted to follow, though some he didn't even bother trying. She had to be using her Metamorphmagus powers, for surely most normal people couldn't bend in such ways.

"Don't you have any shorts?" Tonks asked, rather muffled since she was nearly face down on the mat.

"No, I don't think so. Not here."

"I'll get you some. You need something less restrictive than your uniform trousers, especially when we get to hand-to-hand combat."

"Hand-to-hand combat?" he repeated uneasily.

"What else would you do when you're disarmed?" She stood up and grinned impishly. "Don't worry, Harry, I won't hurt you. Much."

Not at all reassured and wondering once again what he'd gotten himself into with this mischievous Auror, Harry pulled his wand and faced Tonks.

"Right, let's start with a simple duel to see where you are. Disarm or stun me, but use whatever you want to get there." Rolling her shoulders and twisting her neck with an audible crack, Tonks settled into a loose stance. "You start."

Mirroring her stance, Harry regarded his opponent for a moment before flicking his wand. "_Expelliarmus!_" Without waiting to see if it landed, he darted to one side and followed up with a stunner.

He should have known better than to expect to catch an Auror off guard. Both spells were immediately redirected at his torso, and another jet of light was headed straight for his head. "_Protego!_" he cried, managing to duck just enough to evade her hex as it ruffled his hair. His shield absorbed both his spells, but the impact knocked him off his feet. As soon as his back hit the ground, he was struck by a full body-bind curse.

Tonks's grinning face appeared over his. "Alright, Potter, quit fooling around."

She lifted the spell, and Harry climbed to his feet slowly, his pride stinging more than his body. "I wasn't," he muttered. "I'm not a bloody Auror, you know."

"I know. You were better than I expected." Her smile turned puzzled. "But you know you have to use nonverbal spells. You were telling me exactly what was coming."

"Believe me, I would if I could," he grumbled. His success at nonverbal spells was still few and far between, never when Snape was hovering over his shoulder.

"Are you kidding?" Tonks didn't bother to hide her surprise. "That should have been the first thing you covered in a NEWT defense class."

"It was, but all Snape did was tell us to jinx each other without speaking and then watched. I can do it, but most of the time I have some sort of block."

Tonks sat down heavily with a frustrated sigh. "Bloody hell, I completely forgot Sevvie's teaching Defense this year. Reckon it's like Potions all over again, innit? Never explains a thing, the git." She patted the floor next to her. "Sit down. Now I know where to start."

And that was Harry's first lesson with Tonks, infinitely more satisfactory than Dumbledore's. She showed him techniques to relax, to concentrate, to pour all his mental energy into one action without physically doing anything. It was when he remembered learning to cast a patronus that it clicked. By the time she called it a night, Harry had worked his way from a simple _Lumos_ to a disarming charm, albeit not while under any stress.

"Here," Tonks said as they headed back to Gryffindor Tower, reaching into her bag and tossing him one of two green apples. "If you're anything like me, you're starving."

"I am, actually," he agreed. "Crazy how much it takes out of you."

"Yeah, but when I'm through with you, it'll be second nature to cast nonverbally," she said with a bite of her apple.

**oOo**

"You're waving your wand wrong," Harry instructed.

Neville's round face was pink with exertion. "I don't want to drown you again."

"It's fine, Neville," said Harry patiently. His classmate was able to produce an _Aguamenti_ charm just fine; it was control that was the problem. His last attempt had drenched Harry from head to shoes. "You know you can do it, so don't concentrate so hard on simply producing the water. That's why it's too strong. When the cup is nearly full, pull your wand back up, just as you would a pitcher."

Narrowing his eyes, Neville pointed his wand at the cup on the table in front of them. "_Aguamenti._" One droplet of water slowly dripped from the tip of his wand as it would a leaky faucet. Neville turned to Harry with a dejected look.

"Getting better. Just practice." With what he hoped was an encouraging grin, Harry turned back to his Herbology homework.

Somehow Harry had turned into a leader in their unofficial group, with students asking him for help nearly as often as Hermione. He didn't mind, but it did lessen the amount of time he had for his own studies, which was tight enough as it was between Quidditch practice and lessons with Tonks.

Finally reaching the end with an increasingly scratchy quill, Harry gazed around the classroom. Neville could still be heard next to him, splashing occasionally accompanying his mutters. Hermione had her nose mere inches away from her Potions textbook. Various other sixth-years were scattered through the room, reading, writing, and practicing spells, some alone, some in pairs. Parvati caught Harry's eye and quickly turned away, dropping her Divination book on the ground. He withheld laughter, turning to Ron, who was talking to Lavender. Judging by her incessant giggles, they weren't discussing anything in the Hogwarts curriculum.

"Hey, Harry!" Neville broke into his thoughts, and Harry glanced at the cup, which was impressively full nearly to the brim.

"See? I told you you just needed a bit of control." Harry began to shove his books into his bag, done for the day. He was still sore from the previous day's flying drills, and the late nights took their toll as well.

Neville accompanied him back to the common room. Several floors passed before Neville hesitantly spoke. "Can I ask you something?"

Harry shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Why is homework so important to you now? I mean, you didn't – well, your marks – you never seemed to care before unless it was exams," Neville stammered.

Harry slowed, trying to think of a way to answer. "Neville, you were at the Department of Mysteries. I could have died. The four of you could have died. And Siri– my godfather did. If I'm ever in a situation like that again, I want to be ready. I want to be better. I don't know how knowing the correct way to juice a Snargaluff pod will help, but I'm not really in a position to pick and choose."

"That's good," Neville replied earnestly, nodding his head. "That you still want to fight. When you said you weren't continuing Dumbledore's Army, I wondered ... you do still want to fight, right?"

"Yes," Harry answered. Neville had put his life on the line for Harry. He deserved the truth. "I intend to."

"Are you in the Order of the Phoenix?"

Harry stopped walking, glancing at Neville sharply. How did he know about the Order?

"My parents were in it," Neville said quietly at his look, and Harry could have hit himself on the head. He had a picture of the first Order, with Neville's parents standing near his own.

"No," Harry answered, surprised at the bitterness in his own tone. It was something that had been on his mind lately, that he wasn't allowed to be a part of the one group dedicated to fighting Voldemort despite the fact that he had an integral role to play. "You have to be of age and out of school."

"Oh." Neville nodded, and Harry waited, knowing he was going to continue. "But you're in contact with them, right? Isn't the Auror that's here a part of it?"

"Tonks? Yeah. Why?"

"Gram said she wants to help. She said now that she knows I can take care of myself, she wants to do more. Because of my parents." Neville's face shone with pride. He wasn't always great shakes at magic, and Harry knew his grandmother could be rather hard on him. "She's good at magic. She's, you know, not young, but she can be, er, scary."

Harry smothered a grin. Neville's grandmother was rather like Professor McGonagall – older but formidable. "Well, that's good, Neville," he said, not sure why his friend felt the need to tell him this.

"It's only I thought you could say something to Dumbledore," Neville finished in a rush. "And not just about Gram. I want to fight, too, as soon as they'll let me."

Harry regarded Neville as he climbed through the portrait hole in front of him. Neville had always been on the shy side, bumbling, awkward, but even at the age of eleven he was willing to stand up for what he believed in despite knowing he faced those with superior talent. Neville was the kind of person the Order needed, the kind of person who would stand against Voldemort until his dying day. And who was Dumbledore to tell them to sit back and let the adults take care of everything? Even if they couldn't go on missions, they could help in other ways, or at least be better prepared to take an active role when the time came. Hadn't they demonstrated their willingness at the Ministry? Hadn't they proved they could be trusted?

"Well, maybe, but Dumbledore hasn't been around much," Harry said haltingly. It was true. Of late, the Headmaster had been markedly absent from the staff table, his normal chair empty more often that filled. Harry was most curious.

"I know," Neville agreed, lines of concern creasing his face. "Odd, isn't it?" Harry nodded, and he continued. "Well, no matter what, I'll stand behind you, Harry." He clapped him on the shoulder briefly before heading to their dormitory.

"Thanks, Neville," said Harry, surprised.

"Sure. See you later."

"Hi, Harry."

Suppressing a groan, Harry turned around into the broadly smiling face of Romilda Vane, a fifth year who made her interest in the Chosen One painfully obvious. "Er, hello, Romilda."

"We – my friends and I – were hoping you could help us with our Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. We heard you got an Outstanding on your O.W.L."

These days Harry normally didn't mind helping out a fellow student, but he had the distinct impression that it wasn't his O.W.L. scores that interested Romilda. "Oh, I would, but, uh, I've got to read up on, uh, dementors or Snape'll fail me for sure. Sorry, maybe another time. See you."

Harry took off for his dorm, leaving a disgruntled girl in his wake. As he reached his bed, he shook his head. Absent headmasters, maniacal Dark Lords, and obsessive fangirls. His problems really ran the spectrum.

**oOo**

"I don't think I'll be able to move tomorrow," Harry complained, dropping onto the mat heavily at the end of a long duel with Tonks. "What was that last hex you used?"

"A deadening spell. It targets the muscles, makes you lose all feeling and control. Very handy if you're chasing someone, you can hit their leg and make them fall, or to get someone's arm to disarm them. The opposite of the Cruciatus, numbing instead of stimulating."

"It's effective," Harry admitted grudgingly, flexing his arm experimentally. "I can barely feel my arm."

"Ah, you'll be fine. Get one of your fangirls to give you a massage." Tonks winked.

"And encourage the rabid masses? No, thank you." Harry accepted the bottle of water she offered him gratefully, draining half of it in one gulp.

"Harry, are you gay?"

Harry spat his mouthful of water all over the mat in front of him. "What! No! Why do you think that?"

"I don't, really, but I don't know any other man that would be as upset as you are about the adoration of half the castle."

"They want the Chosen One, not me," he growled irritably. "I'm not interested in that."

"And why not?" she persisted, sitting up and crossing her legs. "You have enough complications in your life. I reckoned you'd be well up for some nice, simple snogging. That's all they want. Only the craziest will propose marriage."

"I – I mean – well –" he stuttered. The fact was that Harry was sixteen and very much interested in snogging, just not with Romilda Vane or any of her followers. But he couldn't say that to Tonks. "Like I said, they're only interested in me because I'm famous. No other reason."

"You really need to drop this oh-so-humble shtick. It's very unappealing."

Harry stared at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You have a severe lack of confidence," she said rather condescendingly. She lowered her voice in what was clearly supposed to be an imitation of Harry. "When I face Voldemort, I'm nothing but dragon fodder. I don't know why girls like me. I'm just an average wizard."

"It's all true!" he protested.

"Shut up," she snapped, and he recoiled. What was her issue? "Harry, you learned how to adapt your patronus faster than anyone else in the Order except Remus. You've been doing Auror-level training and holding your own. I tell you all the time that you're doing great! What else do I need to do to convince you that you're not worthless? What the hell did those Muggles do that led you to hold yourself in such low regard?"

Harry's mouth worked several times, but nothing came out. True, the Dursleys had always made very clear their low opinion of him, but seeing as they thought Dudley was a big-boned person who was sensitive and misunderstood, their opinion didn't count for much. But neither did Harry think he was better than anyone. He was just ... Harry. "Why do you care so much?" he finally asked.

"Remember what I said the night you asked me to train you, about believing you actually have a chance?" He nodded. "I meant it. I know it sounds lame, but you have to believe you can win, or you'll lose. It was drilled into me a thousand times by Mad-Eye. And –" Her voice dropped. "And I've really enjoyed spending time together. I would be very sad if something happened to you."

Harry purposefully looked in another direction, uncomfortable. Personally he believed this idea of positive thinking was a load of crap and she had to be delusional if she truly thought he could defeat Voldemort, but he didn't think she'd be too pleased with that answer. "I guess that makes sense. I'll think about what you said," he lied.

"Good," she said, climbing to her feet. "We should get you back to Gryffindor Tower. You've classes bright and early."

On their way back, he under the invisibility cloak and she checking the Marauder's Map for unwelcome company, she brought up the issue again. "I've decided to add another facet to your training."

"What's that?"

"Confidence. You're going to ask that girl I saw you with a few weeks ago to Hogsmeade. Pavarotti or something like that."

"Parvati," he corrected her, chuckling despite feeling rather irritated. "That's my personal life, Tonks. You don't have any say in that. And I don't even like Parvati like that."

"How do you know if you never look at her that way? No, you have to kiss someone to really know. So either snog her or ask her out by your next Hogsmeade trip."

He rolled his eyes. "And if I don't?"

"Then I'll tell Ginny Weasley you've had the hots for her since the Quidditch World Cup," she said simply.

"You wouldn't," he warned. He much preferred friendly Ginny to stalker Ginny.

"There's not much in this world I won't do," she said with relish. "I'll tell her you confided in Sirius, and he let it slip while we had a drink one night. Ginny looks up to me. She'll believe me."

Harry glared at her, even though he knew she couldn't see him. "You're evil."

"Yes, dear, I know," she replied indulgently. "Bad, bad Tonks for making Harry go on a date. Immeasurably cruel."

"I'll have only you to blame when Parvati laughs me away."

"She won't," Tonks assured him matter-of-factly. "You have very jumpable bones."

It was these words that caused Harry to run straight into a nearby suit of armor, bringing Filch to the scene in a matter of seconds and forcing Tonks to do some very quick thinking.

**oOo**

A week before Halloween, Professor McGonagall asked Harry to stay after Transfiguration. Confused and more than a little apprehensive, Harry approached her desk as the classroom emptied.

"Am I in trouble, Professor?" he asked.

"Is there something for which you should get in trouble?" she responded with a penetrating look.

_Definitely not for sneaking out of Gryffindor tower several nights a week._ "No, Professor, I just –"

"Would you like a biscuit, Harry?" She held out a tin.

"Er, sure." Harry took a gingersnap hesitantly. It always unsettled him when she used his first name.

"Sit down. Harry, I cannot understand why you possibly did not tell me what happened last year."

_Ah._ "I don't really know, Professor. She got Professor Dumbledore sacked and took his place. What could you have done?"

"Well, I certainly wouldn't have stood by!" she snapped. "I wish you would have come to me. What that woman did was simply unacceptable."

"That's why I hope she goes to Azkaban," Harry said simply.

"Yes, I – ah, hello, Nymphadora."

Harry turned around in surprise. Tonks had slipped into the room quietly, and her robes and expression told him that this was Auror Tonks in official capacity.

"Wotcher," she greeted them with a smile. "Are you ready for me?"

"He's all yours." McGonagall returned to the essays in front of her, missing the Auror's lascivious wiggle of her eyebrows at her choice of words.

Tonks walked toward them, carelessly choosing a seat on top of a nearby desk. "Are you ready for this, Harry?"

"For what?"

"Umbridge. The trial. It's happening."

"Really? I mean, yeah, definitely." Harry was shocked; he had ruthlessly suppressed any hope of giving Umbridge what she deserved even when Tonks had pursued him for further details or referred to an investigation.

"Excellent, cos it's on Monday."

"Professor Dumbledore has excused you from your classes for the day, although you will still be responsible for any homework assigned. I'm sure Miss Granger can fill you in on what you miss," McGonagall informed him without looking up. "Nymphadora will escort you."

Tonks made a face at her former teacher. "Meet me in the Entrance Hall at seven that morning." She stood up. "Any questions?"

He had a thousand, but Harry shook his head. "No."

"See you Monday, then." Tonks patted his shoulder briefly, and in the second their eyes met, she mouthed 'midnight.' Harry jerked his head in a minute nod. "Later, Professor."

Suddenly, Harry had a mental picture of what McGonagall would do if Tonks called her 'McG' to her face, and a guffaw, badly disguised as a choking cough, came out, causing both teacher and Auror to glance at him with perplexed concern. "Frog in my throat," he mumbled, determinedly not catching Tonks's eye.

Harry had a hard time concentrating during that night's training. Normally Tonks alternated between learning new spells and techniques, and dueling. However, after Harry's tenth unsuccessful (and admittedly halfhearted) try at a disillusionment charm, Tonks abruptly sent a stunner at him, switching to a duel..

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded after he'd been stunned and awoken five times in a row, keeping him frozen in place with a variant of the body-bind curse.

_Beyond the fact that you have me flat on the ground?_ "Can I get up, please?"

"Not until you tell me what's up your bum," she replied blithely. She was always cheerful when she won.

Harry struggled before giving up in disgust. "It's the trial," he admitted.

"What, you having second thoughts?" she said, finally allowing him to sit up. "That's a loser move. I stuck my neck out for you, mate."

She was grinning, so Harry knew she wasn't honestly upset. "Not really. I just realized how low my expectations are that she'll actually get what she deserves."

"It's worth a shot, innit? And at the very least, everyone will finally know how truly evil the bitch is."

"At my expense," he grumbled. Harry slid back until he leaned against the wall, pulling his knees up in front of him. "Just what I need. More exposure."

Tonks sat next to him. "Want me to take credit? I can come up with some fake scars, and I never minded attention."

"Thanks for the offer, but I figure I can handle it. No one said I had to like it." He grinned at her briefly.

"Is that all?" she asked after a moment.

Harry brushed at his fringe, resting his head against the wall. What was it about Tonks that made him spill his guts? "Dumbledore hasn't said a word. I know I sort of went off on him the last time we talked, but there was a part of me that expected him to at least acknowledge the trial. If he hadn't avoided me last year, I might have told him about it." Harry mentally chastised himself. He needed to get over the idea that Dumbledore would always be there to guide him, because it was becoming more and more obvious that that wasn't the case.

Tonks didn't say anything, but she slipped an arm around his shoulders, and they sat in silence for several minutes. It was nice, and Harry wondered how Tonks, who was normally so talkative, knew just when to be quiet. He had gotten to know her better during all the time they spent together over the last month, and he appreciated their sessions as much for her company as for the training itself.

Eventually Tonks waved her wand and sent her bag flying toward them, catching it deftly. She extracted a large container and waved it in Harry's direction. "Snack? Mum sent me a hamper a few days ago."

"Still a mummy's girl," he teased her, grabbing a large chocolate sweet.

"Even the house-elves can't – Harry, wait, that's –!"

Harry bit the sweet in half, and it quite simply blew up in his hand, showering them both in sticky fudge. Harry blinked as a large gob fell off the end of his nose.

"– an exploding bonbon," she finished weakly, chocolate dripping down her own face.

"I see that," he replied, and Tonks burst into infectious laughter. Harry had to laugh along, knowing he must look as ridiculous as she did.

Tonks waved her wand, siphoning the chocolate off him, and he did the same for her, pleased he didn't have to murmur a word. When Tonks got to his face, instead of continuing to siphon as he had, she conjured a cloth and took his chin in her hands, gently wiping off the fudge. He didn't know why she did it this way, but when she finished, she continued to hold his chin, tilting her head slightly to one side. Her eyes, he noticed as they studied his face, were an interesting half-moon shape, today a very light green.

"You have a very nice facial structure," she said, tracing his jaw with one finger.

Harry suddenly felt very warm and said the first thing that came into his mind. "I look like my father." _Why did I just say that?_

She finally released him, but Harry still stared at her, wondering what this was all about. "I know," she said, and he swore her cheeks had the faintest pink tint.

**oOo**

"Hermione, why do you have your bag?" Harry asked as they made their way to the Quidditch pitch on Saturday. Ron, never one to be extremely confident, wanted extra flight time before practice.

"I'm going to revise my Arithmancy essay while you fly."

"The one you worked on for four hours last night?" Ron asked in disbelief. "It's at least two feet already!"

"Two and a half, but I want to add more about the properties of the number seven," she replied evenly.

Harry rolled his eyes at Hermione's studiousness, but Ron directed their attention toward the lake. "Who's that?"

Following Ron's pointing finger, Harry and Hermione shaded their eyes against the sun as they scanned the shoreline of the lake, spotting a figure jogging. It was, Harry realized after a moment, Tonks, of all people.

"Wotcher," she said breathlessly as she ran up to them. She wore a maroon tracksuit, and her hair was drawn up in a jaunty blonde ponytail.

They all greeted her, each rather bewildered. "Why are you running, Tonks?" Hermione asked.

"Have to exercise somehow," Tonks answered. "Here, hold this." She handed her jacket, her name embroidered on the back, to Harry, revealing the same top she always wore in their training sessions.

"Aren't you cold?"

"Only in the beginning," she answered from a very bizarre position, bent nearly in half as she stretched. "I warm up pretty quickly."

"Do you do this often?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Try to a few days a week."

"Couldn't you just make yourself look skinny if you wanted?" Ron asked tactlessly.

Hermione glared at him, but Tonks laughed. "Sure, but it's more about being in good enough shape to save my arse from getting fried in a duel than being fat."

"Oh," Ron mumbled.

"What are you lot up to so early this A.M.? Something illicit, I hope."

"Getting a bit of flying in before Quidditch practice," Harry answered. "Hey, do you want to come? They have school brooms."

"She probably has better things to do," Ron said quickly before Tonks could open her mouth. "And the school brooms are all shite anyway."

Tonks glanced at Ron for a moment, furrowing her brow, before smoothing her features and smiling. "Ron's right. I, uh, haven't eaten breakfast. And I remember those brooms. Be an ignominious end for an Auror, wouldn't it, death by faulty Hogwarts broom? See ya." Snatching her jacket out of Harry's hands, she turned and left quickly.

"Mental, that one," Ron said, resuming his trek to the pitch. "Out running, before breakfast?"

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, glancing back to make sure Tonks was out of earshot. "That was really rude!"

"What's your problem, mate?" Harry joined in.

"She doesn't have to spend all her time with us. We see her around the castle all the time, she ate with us last weekend," Ron grumbled. "She's not our friend."

Harry stared unblinkingly at his best mate while Hermione protested. What did Ron have against Tonks? He used to be fine with her. "I consider her a friend," he agreed with Hermione.

Ron scoffed. "Believe me, we all know that."

"What are you on about?" Harry demanded. Ron hesitated, and that only increased Harry's ire. "No, go on. You have so much to say."

"You talk about her all the bloody time!" Ron burst out, not quite yelling. "Tonks says this and Tonks says that. Merlin's arse, it's like you fancy her."

"Wha–"

"And you might have 'never been more fanciable' but not only is she off the market, she's years older than us. I reckon that's out of even your league, Chosen One or not."

"What? I'm not – she's not – I don't –" Harry looked back and forth at his companions, but it was to Hermione that Ron spoke next, his ears turning red.

"Yeah, I heard you talking to Ginny."

"Ron, no, that's – you misunderstood. Yes, I did say that, but –" She turned to Harry, her cheeks pink. "We were talking about all the girls that showed up for Quidditch tryouts. It's just, you're so famous and everyone knows you faced Voldemort in fourth year and you've – you've grown. But I don't – I mean, I like you, but I don't _like_ you. That's all. Ron, that's all it was."

"It sure sounded like you and Ginny were about to start up the Harry Potter fan club," Ron spat.

"Don't have a go at her just because you're angry at me," Harry snapped. "And don't have a go at Tonks either. I don't fancy her. It's just she's the only one who believes me about Malfoy, the only one who cares if I live or die!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Hermione cried, stepping in between them. "Harry that's not true, of course we care. And Ron, you're overreacting."

They both ignored her. "Come off about Malfoy already!" Ron yelled. "I'm as bloody tired of hearing about him as I am of Tonks. If she's the only one who believes you, maybe that should tell you something. You really think she knows better than Dumbledore?"

"Yeah, I do," Harry replied heatedly. Ron had touched a sore spot. "In this case."

"Then you must fancy her. Only someone who wants to get snogged would believe a girl who makes pig noses for amusement over Dumbledore."

"This isn't even about her!" Harry yelled in reply, the crux of the matter finally coming out as latent resentment at his friends spilled over. "You're my friend! You're supposed to have my back!"

"And that means believing everything you say simply because you have some bloody prophecy over your head?" Ron said sarcastically. "We believed you last year, and it nearly got us all killed."

"Ron, stop, please!" Hermione pleaded. "Harry, he's just upset, don't listen –"

Harry was nearly shaking. "Don't you dare bring that up," he warned the redhead. "I know damn well how badly I screwed up last year. You think I don't think about that every single day? This is fourth year all over again. You're jealous, so you run away just when I need you most."

"Both of you, stop it –"

"Of course you take his side." Ron glared at the pair. "Forget it. I don't feel like flying anymore."

"Go then! And don't be late for practice!" Harry shouted at Ron's retreating figure before marching off to the Quidditch pitch in a fury, Hermione in his wake. How could Ron overreact so much to a few simple statements? Ron had always been jealous of Harry, and he was getting really tired of it. Harry had more important things to worry about than a friend's pettiness.

"Oi!" At the shout, Hermione and Harry turned around to see that Ron had stopped. "She's having it off with Bill!" Ron shook his head angrily when they started to argue. "Don't waste your time. In the summer, before you came to stay, I went downstairs to use the toilet one night. It was really late. She came out of his room and they kissed. I saw it all. Tonks is messing around with Bill."


	5. Memories

**Memories**

"Do you think it's true?"

Hermione worried the edge of her jacket. "I don't know. I can't see why he would lie, but on the other hand I never thought Tonks would do something like that."

"Nor Bill," Harry agreed. "He always seemed happy with Fleur. Maybe Ron just ... misunderstood."

"How?" Hermione said doubtfully. "A kiss is a kiss."

They lapsed into silence, sitting alone in the stands at the Quidditch pitch. Harry felt something akin to a sense of betrayal at the revelation, though he couldn't say why. Worse was the loss of respect for two people he had always liked – Bill, someone he looked up to, and Tonks, so friendly. Harry wanted to dwell on that part of all that Ron had said, for what cut far deeper was his best mate's blatant distrust of Harry's instincts. And bringing up Sirius – Harry curled his hands into fists. He'd never had the urge to hit Ron like that.

"Ginny would be pleased," Hermione remarked.

"Huh?"

"If it's true about Bill and Tonks. Remember? She said she preferred Tonks as a sister-in-law than Fleur."

"Oh yeah. Hermione, why were you two so mean to Fleur?"

"Harry, I wasn't –" she protested.

"Yes, you were," he countered, annoyed. "Not to her face maybe, but behind her back. She's a nice person. And smart, too."

"I know that. I guess I was caught up living with Ginny and listening to her, and it's just ..."

"That Ron is so blatantly hot for her?" Harry guessed shrewdly.

"No! Of course not."

"Hermione." Harry stared at her, feeling the tug of impatience. "You're my best friend, so be honest with me. Everyone knows you and Ron fancy each other."

Hermione began to speak, then sighed audibly. "I did. Or, I thought I did," she finally admitted, determinedly not catching Harry's eye. "Fourth year, even last year. And ..." she trailed off, blushing fiercely.

"And now?" Harry prompted, trying not to laugh at his friend's embarrassment. She, who so factually asked Harry if Cho kissed him last Christmas, was unable to talk about her own feelings.

"Now ... I don't know. I think I fancy him because I'm supposed to, if that makes sense. Because I did for so long and everyone expects it. But I –" He could tell she was trying to think, so he just waited. "You and Ron are my best friends, and I would never turn my back on either of you. But there are things about Ron that I thought he would grow out of. Things I can tolerate in a friend but not in a boyfriend, if that makes sense. Like his unfounded jealousy."

"That's why he's upset, you know," Harry pointed out. "Because of what you said to Ginny."

"Honestly, it's not like I was planning to smuggle you a love potion like Romilda Vane," Hermione huffed.

Harry frowned. "Is she really?"

"Yes, Ginny overheard her, so you should be careful. She means business."

Harry grunted. _Get rid of one stalker, pick up another. I may have to use my new dueling skills sooner rather than later._ "So did you really say I've never been more fanciable?" he asked with a teasing grin.

Hermione buried her face in her hands. "Shut up, Harry," she ordered in a muffled voice.

Harry laughed at her discomfort. Between Hermione and Tonks, he was starting to feel pretty good about himself. "Are you going to tell Ron?" he asked when he sobered and Hermione emerged. "That you don't fancy him?"

"I can't – I don't know," she said slowly. "I can't very well walk up to him and make an announcement. And I don't know exactly how I feel. Please don't say anything, Harry."

"We're not exactly on good terms now, Hermione." Harry said bitterly. "So don't worry about it."

"He'll come around," she said hopefully. "He always does. You know, for someone so incredibly insensitive to others, he's very sensitive himself."

"Do I really talk about Tonks and Malfoy that much?"

"Well, no – not quite," Hermione stammered. "How do you see Tonks so much?"

"You know, between classes, free periods, and such," he answered vaguely. "Okay, be honest: what do you think about Malfoy?"

It took her a long time to answer. "It seems very illogical that Voldemort would make Draco Malfoy a Death Eater and entrust him with some scheme."

"Hermione, this is Voldemort," Harry said in disbelief. "I think all logic was suspended around the time he decided a one-year-old was his biggest threat."

"Right, right."

"And on the subject of logic: you're the most logical person I know," Harry continued. "Which is why I don't understand how you can't see this. Follow me, okay? One, we know he buys into the pureblood mania."

Hermione nodded. "True. "

"Two, we know he practically idolizes his father, and remember how angry he was when Lucius was sent to Azkaban."

"Also true."

"And three, it's not like Voldemort hasn't enlisted teenagers before."

"Really? Who?" Hermione questioned.

"Sirius's brother, Regulus. He was only eighteen or so when he died, and he had already joined the Death Eaters and then tried to back out."

Hermione frowned, looking thoughtful. "Oh, I didn't know that."

"I know something Hermione Granger doesn't?" Harry said with false astonishment, grinning briefly. "Anyway, can't you see how it makes perfect sense? He's the ideal candidate. Add that to this job he keeps mentioning … just think about it."

"But if even _Dumbledore_ doesn't believe it ... but Tonks does and she's trained ..." she mused. "I can't say he might not be up to something. After all, when has a year passed when there wasn't some scheme floating around here?"

"I suppose if you follow the trend, we don't have to worry about anything until June," Harry remarked, and she laughed. Harry extracted an arm and slid it around Hermione's shoulders. "You're my best friend, Hermione. I need you to believe me."

Hermione gazed at him somberly. "Why is this so important to you, Harry?"

"Why isn't it important to you?" he countered, and both fell silent again. Finally, unable to dwell on dismal thoughts any longer, Harry removed his arm and nudged his friend. "So what makes me so fanciable? Is it my hair, or –"

"Shut up, Harry!"

**oOo**

Ron didn't talk to either of them at all that day, and he didn't show up at the study group the next day, either. _Fine by me,_ thought Harry, who was determined not to speak to Ron until he apologized. He found concentration difficult, though, and so he spent much of the time thinking of Tonks's comments on Parvati.

He liked her as a friend, certainly. She was smart, easy to talk to, and apparently forgiving, considering how he had thoroughly ignored her at the Yule Ball even though she was his date. And there was no denying she was one of the prettiest girls in school. But she didn't make his stomach clench in a ball of nerves like Cho had, although given how horribly things had turned out with Cho, maybe starting out as just friends was the right way to go. It didn't seem right to ask a girl on a date simply because someone else dared him, but Harry was sure Tonks would follow through on her threat.

"Harry, you're staring."

He jumped. "What? No, I'm – I'm thinking about how to finish this essay."

"She likes you, Parvati does," Hermione continued in a matter-of-fact voice. "Has since fourth year."

While Harry absorbed that revelation, the girl in question caused a small disturbance, slamming her book shut while yawning and blinking her eyes. "That's it, I can't do this anymore. I'm going back to the common room. Lavender?"

Lavender waved her on. "No, I want to finish my dream diary."

"I'll go with you," Harry volunteered on a whim.

Parvati looked pleased, and Harry tried to ignore Lavender's giggles and Hermione's knowing look as they gathered their things and departed. They walked through the castle in silence. Harry's tongue was lead, and he cursed himself, for he'd never found conversation with Parvati difficult until he viewed her in a new light.

_Just do it_, he told himself. _If you can face Voldemort, you can talk to a girl._ Dark wizards had nothing on teenage girls, though. "I'm sorry," he finally blurted out.

Parvati slowed momentarily, then caught up with him. "Um, don't worry about it, Harry," she said in a puzzled tone.

"Thanks," he replied with relief.

They continued walking quietly until she spoke again. "What exactly are you sorry for?"

_Oh, well done, Harry._ "Oh, right," he muttered with a sheepish smile. "For the Yule Ball. I mean, for inviting you and then ignoring you."

"That? Don't worry about it." She glanced at him with confusion as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "That was two years ago. Why are you bringing it up now?"

"I just thought you should know," said Harry, feeling stupid. "And I wanted to tell you the next time will be different."

Parvati came to a halt. "Next time?" she echoed, her dark brown eyes wide.

He took a deep breath. "Parvati, do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

A smile spread across her face. "Yes, I do." After a sudden jerky movement, she leaned over and pressed her lips against Harry's. "See you later, Harry."

He stayed where he was while she slipped inside the portrait hole, raising a hand to his mouth. That was unexpected, though not unpleasant, and certainly preferable to Cho's wet kiss even if it didn't make his stomach swoop.

_Well done, Harry._

**oOo**

As planned, Harry met Tonks in the Entrance Hall on the morning of the trial. His stomach grumbled audibly as he approached, and he glanced at the Great Hall hopefully.

"Sorry, we've things to do before the trial," Tonks said, tossing him a scone. "Munch on this." She cast a critical eye over him. "Yes, you'll do nicely."

"Want to tell me why it's so important I wear my uniform?" Harry asked as they began to head toward the gates, taking a bite of the still-warm pastry.

"To try to distance the Chosen One from the student who was tortured by a teacher. It makes you look younger, more innocent, less like the boy wonder. S'all about audience manipulation."

"What about you?" Harry glanced questioningly at her faded jeans and what appeared to be a dragon-skin jacket.

She shrugged. "I've clothes at the office. I'll change to something more appropriate before the trial."

Harry considered Tonks as they made their way in the growing sunlight. Though he'd pondered confronting her or Bill, Hermione had talked him out of it, claiming they didn't have proof and it wasn't any of their business. Given that Hermione was usually right and that he didn't want to fight with her as well as Ron, he kept his mouth shut and instead focused on the trial, trying to dispel both his nerves and his cynical feeling that it would end up being a waste of time.

**oOo**

"I just need to swing by my desk for something," Tonks said when they arrived at the Auror Office, steering Harry through the maze of cubicles. He spotted Kingsley, who waved, but Tonks continued moving. "Here we are."

Harry was relatively sure he could have picked out Tonks's cubicle on his own. One wall was entirely given over to a large poster of the Puddlemere United Quidditch team, and another was covered in pinned pictures of what he presumed to be her family and friends, a number including her own heart-shaped face. Harry's stomach lurched when he took in the third wall, for it was plastered with wanted posters and Daily Prophet articles, a majority of which featured Bellatrix Lestrange, though he also spotted the article proclaiming Sirius's posthumous innocence. A large desk-shaped object took up most of the floor space, but it was so covered with books, parchment, and even robes that it was hard to tell exactly what lay underneath.

Tonks began shifting through the piles of parchment with obvious caution. "I just need ... know it's here ... I thought ... aha!" She held up a manila folder in triumph.

"You know you have a filing cabinet for that reason."

Harry turned at the voice, which belonged to an unusually tall man leaning against the opposite cubicle. Probably several years older than Tonks, he had shaggy blond hair that fell past his ears and strawberry blond stubble along his jaw.

"Coop!" Tonks all but squealed, rushing past Harry to jump in the stranger's arms. "How are you?"

"A bit afraid for my ribs," he joked even as he returned the embrace with equal warmth. "You?"

"Glad to be back, however briefly." Tonks extracted herself and pulled Harry forward. "Harry, this is my partner, Cooper. Coop, this is Harry Potter."

"Alright, Harry?" Cooper asked, extending his hand with a friendly smile.

Harry shook his hand. "Alright. You?"

"Good. You ready for this?"

"I think so." The closer the trial drew, the tenser Harry became.

"You'll be fine." Patting him on the shoulder, Cooper turned to Tonks. "We're supposed to meet in the team room in ten."

"Excellent. C'mon, Harry." She pulled Harry along with her as they resumed their trek deeper into the maze. "Everyone there?"

"Jason already is, and Alex will be shortly."

"Sam?"

Cooper shrugged. "He has no reason to be, but he knows you're supposed to be here. He'll probably show up."

"He better. Ah, here we go, Harry." They stopped at an unremarkable black door. Tonks tapped it with her wand in a distinct pattern, finishing with a flourish, and the door swung open. "Wotcher, Jason."

"Hello, Tonks." A compact man looked up from a large table. His heavily lined face was marked by sharp features, and close-cropped brown hair topped his head.

Tonks crossed the room to give him a reserved hug. "Harry, this is Auror Jason McBride, another member of my team. Jason, this is Harry Potter."

"Of course." Jason shook Harry's hand with a nod, but it was the shrewd brown eyes underneath thick eyebrows that caught his attention. Eyes that showed no sign on the half-smile on his face.

"So this is where you work?" Harry asked Tonks, withdrawing from Jason's unsettling presence.

"Part of the time. I really only spend about half my working hours at the Ministry. The rest I'm out in the field, either on patrol or on a mission. We use this as a meeting and planning room."

"You should consider yourself lucky, Harry," said Cooper, turning around a chair and straddling it. "Normally no one is allowed in here but team members."

"How does this go?" Harry asked, intrigued by the inner workings of what he hoped would be his future place of employment. He sat down, accepting a doughnut from a box Tonks produced from parts unknown.

"We're assigned in teams of five," she explained, perching on the table in between he and Cooper. "We work closely with our own partners, like Coop and I, but any major cases are handled by the entire team."

"And we all have different specialties," Cooper interjected. "Tonks is an undercover agent, I'm an interrogator, and Jason is an enforcer."

"He's the best duelist," Tonks clarified helpfully. "He leads our assaults."

"And I'm the one who makes sure they stay alive." A short young man walked into the room, fairly bouncing with each step. He had a pleasant, youthful face split in a wide smile with a shock of red hair on his head. He strode right to Tonks and picked her up bridal-style. "Where have you been all my life, darling?"

To Harry's utmost surprise, he planted a loud smack right on her mouth, but Tonks simply laughed and playfully slapped his face. "Quit fooling around, you ponce, you'll give Harry the wrong idea. Harry, meet Samuel Moncrieff, our resident medi-Auror."

"Sam," he supplied cheerfully, all but dropping Tonks on the floor as he seized Harry's hand and shook it enthusiastically.

"Harry Potter," he replied, rescuing his hand before it was pulled loose. "Sorry, but what's a medi-Auror?"

"Technically I'm a mediwizard. I have extra defensive training, and I'm attached to the team, but I don't do any of the investigative work. They call us medi-Aurors, but it's an unofficial term."

"Unofficial or not, he's saved all our lives at least once," Jason spoke up for the first time. "He goes on our missions to patch us up on the fly."

Harry glanced at Sam again, but he had pulled Tonks to one side. They were conversely rapidly, laughing and waving their hands so effusively they were in danger of hitting each other. Left alone, he took the opportunity to look around. The wooden table, with rolls of parchment and a glass jar in the middle, dominated the room. Harry wandered toward the back, glancing at a chalkboard. On it was written each member's name with numbers next to them, but it didn't make any sense to him. 'S.A. Scotland' was also scribbled under Tonks's name. Next to it were five black lockers. The nearest had a picture of Tonks in her official Auror robes, uncharacteristically serious until she crossed her eyes. Underneath was an etched plaque.

_Tonks, Nymphadora A._

"_Hardcore"_

_Junior Auror_

_0974118E_

"_If not now, when?"_

"Hardcore?" he wondered aloud.

"Oh, no." Tonks groaned and pulled him away. "It's a nickname, of sorts. We all have one."

"And where did 'Hardcore' come from?" he asked, grinning, waiting for what had to be a good story.

Tonks wore an expression the closest to sheepish he'd ever seen on her. "Oh, you don't want to hear that."

"I think he does," Cooper said, glee lighting up his face. "You see, Harry, our nicknames come from anecdotes early on in our career. And –"

"Stop!" Tonks interrupted. "You'll embarrass me in front of Harry."

"Well, I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of _Harry_," mocked Cooper.

"Not _Harry_," Sam added teasingly.

"I didn't know you were capable of getting embarrassed," Harry said, grinning. The camaraderie among the team was evident, and their teasing of Tonks put him at ease.

"I'm not," she protested. "But it's not funny."

"She's right. It's not funny, it's hilarious," said Cooper, ignoring Tonks's warning glare. "Back during her first year of training –"

"Oi!" Tonks brandished her wand. "One more word from you or anyone else on this subject, and I'll tell them about the bird you pulled at that strip club we went to in Belfast."

Cooper sucked in his breath, looking wounded. "You wouldn't. That's hitting below the belt."

Tonks guffawed. "Below the belt? Is that really the phrase you want to use to describe that night?"

"Point Tonks," he conceded hastily. "Sorry, Harry, you'll just have to accept that she is, apparently, hardcore."

"I am hardcore," she boasted good-naturedly. "I'm so hardcore, I'm a rock star. I laugh in the face of danger."

A very pregnant pause. "Did you get that from a film?" Cooper finally asked dryly.

"Yeah," she admitted. "Did I pull it off?"

"No."

Tonks shrugged. "Can't win 'em all."

"Whatever, you're hardcore. I want to hear about Belfast now," Harry said eagerly.

"We all want to hear about Belfast," Jason remarked.

Tonks and Cooper glanced at each other, holding a silent conversation. "Sorry, lads, we've made a vow of silence," Tonks announced. "And where's Bear anyway?"

Bear, Harry guessed, was the absent fifth member of the team. "He's late, he's always late, you know that," Cooper said with a snort. "In the meantime – darts?"

"Darts!"

Judging by the exuberant reaction of Tonks and Sam, and the more stolid one of Jason, this was a common recreational activity. For the first time, Harry noticed a wanted poster hanging on the back of the door. It was badly torn, but he thought he made out the leering face of Antonin Dolohov.

"Right." Cooper stood behind the table with a handful of darts. "Ten sickles, left eyebrow." Taking aim, he tossed one but hit the chin instead. The darts must have been charmed, for the picture froze until Cooper pulled it out.

The others booed. "Way off the mark, mate," Tonks said. "Budge over. My turn. Hmm ... a galleon, the nose." She, too, missed. "Bugger. I'm out of practice. Want to try, Harry?"

"Err ..." He'd never played darts, but Tonks's challenging grin swayed him. "Sure. Why not?"

"Excellent. Pick a part of the picture, and place a bet. If you miss, you toss your bet in here." She threw a galleon into the glass jar he'd noticed earlier, where it landed with a clinking sound. "It builds until someone wins the pot." She held out a dart. "Go on, give it a go."

Easy enough. He studied the poster; this was harder than it sounded, given that Dolohov moved. "Um, his chin, a galleon." Sucking in his breath, he threw the dart, but not only did it miss, it didn't even stick in the door, falling to the ground and tearing the poster as it did.

The Aurors laughed. "An extra galleon for finishing off the poster, sorry," Tonks told him. Shrugging, Harry tossed the two golden coins into the jar. Somehow, he felt accepted, and the game provided a fun distraction from the trial.

Cooper waved his wand, and a brand new poster flew from a stack on the table to the door. It was Bellatrix Lestrange.

"You have to let me have first chance at her," Tonks said with relish. "This bitch is mine."

"After you, milady," Sam said with a sweeping bow, handing over a dart.

She studied it in silence for a long moment, her face betraying nothing. "In between the eyes, five galleons," she finally stated with quiet confidence. The men whistled at the high bet, but all fell silent as she took aim. The dart landed, quivering, directly in between Bellatrix's heavily lidded eyes.

"Ha!" Tonks lifted both arms in triumph, giving Harry a high five. "I told you!"

"Nice haul," Jason remarked, pouring the jar into her money bag. "It's been a while."

"Drinks on me next time we all go out," she promised, patting the bulging bag smugly.

Harry thought the game would begin anew, but when someone walked in the door Harry instantly knew this had to be the man they called Bear, for he was nothing if not a bear of a man. Tall and burly, his face was covered with a salt-and-pepper beard, though the hair on top of his head was obviously thinning. Dark, deep set eyes locked onto Harry immediately, and he strode forward to shake Harry's hand.

"Harry Potter," he said in a deep, gravelly voice. "Alex Renaud, Senior Auror and team leader."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Harry said.

"It's Alex. You'll probably hear the others call me Bear. I'm the one with the unenviable task of keeping this lot in line," he said in a long-suffering tone as he looked around the room.

Jason was buried in a roll of parchment, Cooper waved a hand while stuffing a doughnut in his mouth, and Sam and Tonks were – well, Harry wasn't sure. Tonks, for reasons probably only known to them, had one leg extended in front of her while Sam held her foot, twisting it from side to side, both chattering like there was nothing unusual. Catching sight of Alex, Sam let go of her foot and waved, causing Tonks to fall in an undignified heap.

"As you can see, he fails miserably," Tonks called from the floor.

"I do my best," Alex said dryly. "Right, there's a lot going on today so I'll keep this brief. Harry, have a seat with the rest of us. Cooper, pass me the doughnuts."

When everyone was gathered around the table, Alex turned to Harry once again. "Harry, Tonks has kept us well informed with the Malfoy situation. Have there been any developments since the term started?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but we're in different Houses, so I don't see him much."

"Any sudden changes in personality? New friends?" Jason asked. "An increase in outside correspondence? In trouble more often? Dropping hobbies or sports?"

"No – well, at first, he was kind of quiet and withdrawn, but for the last couple of weeks he seems back to normal." Harry glanced from Auror to Auror hesitantly. To be honest, with the trial, his problems with Dumbledore, and training with Tonks, he had almost forgotten what had set it all in motion.

"That's fine, Harry," Cooper said. "You did good to bring this to our attention. Keep your eyes open, and if you see or hear anything unusual, let Tonks know." Harry nodded.

"If you don't mind, I'll ask you to step outside for a moment with Sam," said Alex. "We've a bit of work to discuss."

Harry followed the mediwizard out of the room, where they waited just outside the door. As the workday began, the department was filling up, and Sam entertained him by telling rather off-color stories about various Aurors under his breath. Harry was amused; Sam seemed like nothing more than a male Tonks, loud and mischievous.

After a quarter of an hour, the door opened, and they returned to the room. The walls, previously completely blank, were now covered with maps, lists, and pictures. He caught a glimpse of the face of Lucius Malfoy before Tonks saw him looking and cleared the walls with a wave of her wand.

"Harry, I'm going to change, be right back," she said, pulling a wad of clothing from her locker.

As she left, Harry began to make his way back to the table, intent on eating another doughnut, but Jason stepped in his way.

"Tonks thinks a lot of you," he said abruptly though not unkindly.

"Oh. That's nice."

"Do you see her often?"

"Er –" Teammate or not, Harry knew his sessions with Tonks were supposed to be secret. "Not really. Around the castle, at meals."

Jason nodded. Harry was beginning to wonder if the man ever blinked. "You live with Muggles, yes? When you aren't at school."

"Yes." _This man is strange ..._

"Do you go home at Christmas?"

"No. I either stay at the castle or go to my friend's house."

"I see. And –"

"What is this, twenty questions?" Cooper interrupted with a smile, throwing a friendly arm over Harry's shoulders and steering him back to the table. "He'll be interrogated enough at the trial."

Harry thought he saw a flash of irritation cross the older man's face, but Jason quickly schooled his features and smiled. "Sorry. Just trying to make conversation."

Cooper rolled his eyes. Harry was finally able to grab more food and sat quietly at the table while Cooper and Sam discussed a recent Quidditch match between the Falmouth Falcons and Holyhead Harpies.

"How do I look?" Tonks asked when she returned after a few minutes, twirling around. Soft brown hair pulled back from her face, a plain white Oxford shirt tucked into a narrow black skirt, and wobbly shoes with which she was clearly having difficulty.

"By Merlin, there's actually a lady in there!" Cooper exclaimed.

Tonks glared at the laughing men. "Oh, ha-freaking-ha. Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry was turning his head from side to side as if searching for something. "I'm looking for this lady Coop mentioned, but I don't see her anywhere."

Everyone guffawed, and Tonks looked crestfallen, though her mouth twitched. "I leave him with you lot for five minutes and you turn him. Way to go."

Harry grinned. "You look so ... monotone."

"I figured it would help to dissociate you with that loud pink-haired Auror punk. I am a professional; I do know how to dress for a trial." Tonks clapped her hands together. "Right. If you're done staring – you three, out. We have actual work to do."

Sam, Jason, and Alex filed out, each wishing Harry luck. Tonks occupied herself in her locker, fussing in a mirror, and Cooper got Harry's attention.

"Okay, Harry, the best way to prove your case is to show a memory of Umbridge making you use her blood quill," he explained. "With your permission and assistance, I'd like to use Legilimency to pull one or two."

_Snape._ All he could think of were his disastrous Occlumency lessons the previous year. Harry took a step backward. As much as he loathed Umbridge, he couldn't fathom another invasion of his mind. "Do I have to?"

The Auror frowned. "No, of course not. It's completely voluntary, but I have to tell you the Wizengamot is going to wonder why you refused."

"It's only I had a bad experience," Harry said hesitantly.

"He's one of the best in the Department," Tonks spoke up. "You wouldn't want someone like me rooting around in your head, I'm pants at all that, probably sever something and make you forget English, but Coop is very good at what he does."

"You don't have to," Cooper said reassuringly. "I understand if you're uncomfortable."

Harry looked from one Auror to another. "This is the best way?" Both nodded. "And you'll stay here?"

Tonks smiled. "If you want."

Harry steeled himself. He had committed himself to taking Umbridge down, and he couldn't back away now. Cooper was a professional who had been nothing but friendly, not a bitter man with a decades-old grudge. "Okay. What do I do?"

Cooper gestured for him to have a seat, selecting a chair opposite. "Think of a time when you used the blood quill. It needs to be a specific memory, not simply thoughts about using it. The first time is probably the clearest. Try to recall details, such as what you both wore, exactly what words were said, maybe the time of the day or weather. Anything that makes it notable. Replay it over and over in your mind until I tell you to stop. Don't think about anything else. If you feel a pressure, just relax. That's me. It's very important that you focus on what you're remembering. That makes it much easier on both of us. Don't worry, Harry, I won't look at anything else."

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Sounds simple enough."

"Nod when you're ready, and try to keep eye contact."

Harry closed his eyes in concentration. The first detention. It had been dark. Evening. He was in his uniform; she was in pink, of course. All the damn kittens. At the end, she touched him with her stubby fingers, and his scar – there it was. He remembered.

His eyes flew open, and he nodded. Looking at him with very bright hazel eyes, Cooper pointed his wand. "_Legilimens._"

Harry immediately felt something pushing at his mind, and he clenched his teeth, forcing back the impulse to fight against it. The memory flickered like a television with bad reception, and for a brief instant it was replaced by a Quidditch match. _No._ The quill, the parchment, the cats. The pushing became more insistent, and some hazy part of his consciousness screamed for its removal. _No._ Malfoy the bouncing white ferret. _No._ Sirius falling through the veil. _No._ A pink-haired girl in a yellow tie. _No._ Snape shoving him into a chair, pointing his wand –

"No!"

Harry toppled backward in his chair, landing in a heap. His head pounded. He rubbed it as he climbed to his feet, hoping Cooper wasn't angry. The urge to rid his mind of a foreign presence had been overwhelming. He was confused to see both Aurors slumped against the back wall, shaking their heads groggily.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You don't know?" Cooper looked surprised. Harry shook his head. "Rather powerful bit of magic there. You reacted to the invasion of your mind by literally pushing me away with magic, catching Tonks in the process."

"I know I pushed, but I didn't know it was that hard. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was my fault. I could tell you were resisting and tried to speed up, using more force than I should have."

"Git." Tonks gave her partner an annoyed look before turning to Harry, narrowing her eyes. "Harry, where's your wand?"

He felt for it. "In my back pocket, where I always put it. I know Mad-Eye says not to, but it's handy ... what?"

Both stared at him with raised eyebrows, exchanging a glance that could only be interpreted as impressed.

"You didn't use your wand to do that?" Cooper said faintly.

"No."

"Shite, Harry," Tonks said bluntly. "Have you ever done wandless magic before?"

"Um, once. When the dementors attacked me and my cousin. I couldn't reach my wand, and it lit on its own." They gaped at him. Harry brushed at his fringe nervously. "What's the big deal?"

"The big deal?" Tonks echoed. "Harry, most people stop doing accidental magic when they learn control at Hogwarts. Intentional or not, you just did wandless magic, and a pretty strong bit at that. Not many people can ever do that, and not at sixteen."

"Right, well ... can we just do this?" Harry disliked their stares, like he wasn't normal. "It was a knee-jerk reaction. I'll do better this time."

"If you're ready," Cooper said slowly, moving to straighten his chair. "Just remember to relax. There are some –"

"I know what to do," Harry interrupted. He quickly ran through some of the focusing techniques Tonks had taught him. They were useful; sometimes it felt like a physical weight was lifted. When he looked up, Cooper raised an eyebrow at Tonks, who very deliberately looked away. "Okay. I'm ready."

Cooper looked into his eyes, and Harry began to replay the memory. What she said. How many lines he wrote. The sharp pain. Over and over. But when Coop raised his wand, Harry flinched. He glanced at Tonks, who was watching much more attentively than she had earlier, and her expression softened.

"Wait." She strode to Harry, standing behind him. "Harry, close your eyes and listen to me." She placed her hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly. "Think of riding your Firebolt," she whispered in his ear, a stray hair tickling him. "Not in a match, just for fun. It's sunny, and the wind is rushing through your hair. You're going so fast the scenery is a blur."

She continued to describe the setting, and bit by bit, Harry relaxed. He could almost feel the wood beneath his hands and the heat of the sun on his back. He was surrounded by an interesting scent – not the normal smell of a broomstick, something citrusy, like a fruit, but he couldn't place it. It wasn't disagreeable in the slightest.

"Now think of Umbridge," she continued, still in a whisper. "It's just a memory. Like watching a film you want to share with a friend. That's all. And open your eyes."

The broom ride was replaced with his first detention with Umbridge. This time, when Cooper knocked at the door, Harry tensed but let him in. He felt an indistinct tug, and then it was over.

"Excellent, Harry," Cooper said, siphoning a silvery thread into a vial. "This is gold. And Tonks – good job."

"Always at your service," she said with a smile. When Cooper departed to change for the trial, Tonks rubbed Harry's arm sympathetically. "Alright, Harry?"

"Yeah. Sorry about knocking you against the wall."

"Don't be. That was awesome. I knew there was untapped potential deep inside you."

"Well, I am the Chosen One, you know," Harry said, holding his head up haughtily.

"Look at you, all swagger and show," Tonks drawled in delight. "Lovely. Just don't get _too_ cocky, boy wonder. I'd hate to have to beat you down after spending all that time building you up."

"Apparently I'm awesome with all sorts of untapped potential. I'd like to see you try."

She laughed. "Some other time. Can't muss your outfit." She straightened his tie and smoothed his collar, looking him over once more.

"I was just teasing earlier, you know," Harry said, dropping his cheeky manner. "You look nice."

"Thanks," she said softly. Harry realized they were standing rather close, and Tonks began to say something, then shook her head –

"Ready?" Cooper stuck his head in the door, his cheerful grin fading.

"Yeah," Tonks said quickly, stepping away. She pulled black robes over her clothes, and both Harry and Cooper copied.

"Harry?"

"As I'll ever be," he said, wondering if he imagined the hurt that had flickered across the man's face.

Tonks gestured for Harry to precede her out the door. He followed the two Aurors out of the department and into the lift, where they went all the way down to Level Ten, a place Harry seen twice – once in person and once in someone else's memories. His nerves grew as the lift descended, not helped by the utter silence. He was beginning to think he might be making a fool of himself. When they exited the lift, a middle-aged woman seemed to be waiting for them.

"You must be Harry," she said briskly. She had dark hair drawn up in a severe bun, and her face was plain but kind. He could see laugh lines around her eyes. "Dee Renaud. I'm a solicitor, and Tonks asked me to assist in your case."

"Oh, wow, thank you," Harry said, surprised. He hadn't even thought of representation; he certainly hadn't had any at his last trial. His nerves surged, realizing just how much he'd left to Tonks and the others in this trial. Who was he kidding? He wasn't ready at all.

"I was happy to oblige." Mrs. Renaud turned to Tonks and gave her a reserved hug. "How are you, dear? Did you get the memory?"

"Fine and yes."

Mrs. Renaud hugged Cooper as well but continued her conversation with Tonks. "You haven't been over for dinner in months. Is that husband of mine working you to the bone?"

"She's Alex's wife," Tonks said, catching Harry's look. "And no, Dee, not this time. I'm up in Scotland on a special assignment, only in for the trial. Don't know when I'll be able to come round again."

"We'll have you at Christmas," Mrs. Renaud said as if she hadn't heard Tonks's excuses. "The kids miss you."

"I think the kids missing seeing someone talk back to their dad, but I'll try to make it." Tonks turned back to Harry, eyebrows raised. "Need a last minute dash to the loo?"

That didn't sound like a bad idea, but Harry just wanted to get it over with. "I'm good."

"Right. Then let's go kick some Umbridge arse."


	6. Trial

**Author's Note:** My knowledge of British trials is limited to Google, & I have a very small knowledge of American trials. Given that our few canon examples of wizard trials are biased to say the least, this is mostly purely out of my imagination, though I tried to stay true to JKR. Forgive me for any inconsistencies.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Trial<span>**

Led by Mrs. Renaud, Tonks and Cooper flanked Harry as they led him into the dungeon courtroom, taking seats at a small table on the left side of the room. An identical table, empty, sat on the right, and a lone chair was in the middle. The raised tiers of seats all around were nearly full of all manners of witches and wizards. The Wizengamot.

The whispering, which had increased exponentially when Harry arrived, now rose to a flat-out chattering as the door opened again to emit former Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge and various identical lackeys, followed by a squat woman with a face like a toad, dressed all in pink. Dolores Umbridge.

A powerful rush of hatred washed over Harry as she gave him a wide, simpering – and fake – smile. His lips were about to curl in an involuntary snarl when Cooper leaned over casually.

"Poker face, Harry," he said quietly. "Keep your temper no matter what she does or says. You're a student who has been wronged, not a sulky teenager. Some of them still remember the smear campaign the Ministry put against you last year. It's unfair, but that's the way it is."

Those words made it even harder for Harry to calm himself, but Cooper's advice proved to be just in time. Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic, rose and cleared his throat. "Since everyone has arrived, let's get started. As the accused is a member of my staff, this trial will be overseen by Pius Thicknesse, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." He fixed his gaze on Umbridge as the courtroom fell deathly silent. Looking around, Harry saw the rapt attention on all the faces of the Wizengamot, but the Minister's expression was noncommittal.

As the Minister sat, Thicknesse stood. He had long black hair and a very broad forehead. "Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, you are here to answer charges of the use of a blood quill, a class three forbidden object of Dark magic, on Harry James Potter, a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Do you understand these charges?"

"Yes." Oh, how he detested that syrupy-sweet voice.

"Mr. Potter?" Harry jumped when Thicknesse addressed him. "Please come to the witness stand."

Tonks patted his leg under the table before Harry stood and took his seat in the middle of the room. All eyes were on him, but he focused on Thicknesse, trying to ignore the lion-like visage of the Minister who was also intently gazing at him.

"Mr. Potter, please tell us your account of how Madam Umbridge allegedly forced you to use a blood quill while you were under her supervision at school."

Fixing his eyes on the podium in front of him, Harry told the story of his detentions with Umbridge. How he initially thought it would just be normal lines, the words she made him write over and over, how the first sharp pain felt. How the marks on his hand eventually ceased to fade, the Murtlap Essence that soothed his skin, what Umbridge said when his face showed protest. Several times he heard someone suck in a sharp breath, but otherwise he was uninterrupted. And then the questions from the Wizengamot began.

"Why didn't you tell another teacher?"

"Why are you just now coming forward, months later?"

"Did you ever write anything else?"

"Was this a common punishment for her students, or were you a special case?"

"Did you try to use a healing spell?"

And the last: "Mr. Potter, are the words still etched into your hand?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but he changed his mind, instead simply holding up his right hand, where the red scars of 'I must not tell lies' still shone. This time there were clear gasps.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter." Thicknesse glanced around the room. "If the Wizengamot has no further questions ... counsel for the defense, do you wish to question the witness?"

One of the lackeys rose. "Yes, sir. Mr. Potter, did you enjoy your classes with Professor Umbridge?"

"No," he answered, feeling it would be best to be honest.

"Why is that?"

"All we did was read our textbook. We weren't given any practical defense training. And later ..."

"Yes?" he prompted. Harry had forgotten the solicitor's name as soon as it was given.

"She wouldn't answer our questions and got angry when we asked about Voldemort." The entire room winced collectively, and Harry refrained from rolling his eyes.

"Did you stop asking questions? Stop proclaiming what you believed to be the truth?"

"It _was_ the truth!" Harry responded hotly, trying to keep a latch on his temper.

"Of course we know that now, but at the time there was no evidence to support your claim. So you admit that you continued to disrupt your classes and challenge both your teacher and the Ministry, despite numerous punishments?"

"I –" Harry was at a loss. The answer was yes, but the question had been phrased to make him look like a deliberate agitator.

"No further questions," the solicitor said smoothly.

"I have one final question, Mr. Potter," Thicknesse said. "Do you have any witnesses who can support your claim?"

Harry stared at him, frozen, his heart sinking. Hermione had seen his bleeding hand; it had been she who recommended Murtlap Essence for relief. But he had never considered the idea that he would need her testimony at the trial.

"There's no one else who has any knowledge of Madam Umbridge's alleged use of a blood quill?" Thicknesse continued skeptically.

"Sir?" Harry turned at the sound of Mrs. Renaud's voice as she rose. "Deirdre Renaud, solicitor for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and representation for Mr. Potter. We do have another witness."

Dismissed, Harry took his seat in confusion. How could they have gotten Hermione there so quickly? When the door to the courtroom opened and a dark-skinned boy with dreadlocks walked through, Harry nearly smacked himself on the head. Of course! The twins' old friend, Lee Jordan, was the only other person Harry had ever seen with a bleeding hand after a detention. He had mentioned it in passing to Tonks when she questioned him, but he hadn't ever thought of contacting him. In fact, he had no idea what Lee was up to now that he left Hogwarts.

"You were brilliant," Tonks whispered to Harry.

"Lee Jordan, sir," Lee was saying, seated on the witness stand. "I completed Hogwarts last year."

"Tell us about your experience with Madam Umbridge and the alleged blood quill, Mr. Jordan."

"I got a detention in January after telling Professor Umbridge off for arguing about Exploding Snap in class. Against one of those educational decrees, you know," Lee said, reclining comfortably. "She told me I was to do lines, and she gave me her own quill to use. When I wrote, it was like I was carving the words into the back of my hand, and the same words appeared on the parchment in blood. Or in very realistic red ink that hurt remarkably."

Harry kept his face blank, but inwardly he sighed with relief. Lee described the quill just as Harry had, which had to be a boon.

"Did you ever have to use the quill again?" one of the Wizengamot asked.

"No, just the once."

"And did it leave a scar?"

"Only for a few days, then it faded."

"Thank you, Mr. Jordan," Thicknesse said. "Ms. Renaud, any questions? Counsel for the defense? Alright, you can go."

As Lee passed Harry, he gave him a thumbs up, and Harry smiled gratefully.

Thicknesse looked at Harry and his companions. "Are there any more witnesses?" Mrs. Renaud shook her head. "Very well. Do we have any more evidence to support Mr. Potter's allegations, besides the physical marks on his hand?"

Cooper stood, holding up a vial. "Auror Lesley Cooper, sir. With Mr. Potter's consent, I used Legilimancy to obtain a memory of one of the incidents."

Thicknesse nodded, narrowing his eyes. "Did there appear to be any modifications to the memory?"

"None that I could find, sir."

"For the record, what is your position in the Auror Office?"

"Interrogator, sir."

"And how long have you held this position?"

"Seven years, sir."

He nodded again. "Did you have a witness when you obtained this memory, Auror Cooper?"

Now Tonks stood. "I was witness to the transfer, sir. Junior Auror Nymphadora Tonks. We gathered the memory just before the trial, and Mr. Potter had no prior knowledge that we would ask for it."

Thicknesse waved his hand, and Cooper walked forward to hand over the vial. "We'll review this privately. Now if you would, Madam Umbridge, please come to the witness stand."

Harry leaned forward, forcing himself not to clench his fists in his anxiety. This was it. He had done his part, and he couldn't see how she could possibly deny it, but at the same time ... this was the Ministry of Magic that nearly expelled him for defending himself against a dementor. Logic wasn't exactly their strong suit, nor fairness.

Thicknesse looked at Umbridge impassively. "Madam Umbridge, do you admit to the charges against you?"

"No." Her voice was high, clear, and smug, and it was all Harry could do not to gape. _No?_

"Very well. Tell us what happened in the detentions Mr. Potter served under your supervision."

"Potter was a known subversive with a criminal record. I was under explicit orders from Cornelius – that is to say, Minister Fudge – to silence his lies."

_They weren't lies_, Harry argued silently, furious.

"As the Hogwarts High Inquisitor and later as Headmistress, I had the authority to punish students as I saw fit. When Potter continually interrupted my classes with his lies and arguments, I gave him detention and set him lines."

"And did anything unusual happen during these detentions?" Thicknesse asked. He was beginning to look bored. Not a good sign.

"No, though I'm afraid to say Potter never did seem to learn his lesson." She actually laughed. "In fact, he was so out of control and determined to do as he pleased that he physically attacked another student at a Quidditch match."

Harry had picked up some inventive swears from Tonks, and he thought of a few now. This surely wouldn't help his case. Indeed, more than a few of the Wizengamot were looking at him sternly.

A witch stood. "Madam Umbridge, how do you account for the scars of the back of Mr. Potter's hand?"

"I don't," she replied simply. "Perhaps he made them himself."

Tonks immediately leaned toward Mrs. Renaud, who was whispering hurriedly. Harry tried to listen, but he was distracted by the continuing questioning of Umbridge.

"Why was it so important that Mr. Potter be silenced?" an elderly wizard asked.

"It was widely believed that he and Albus Dumbledore were spreading lies about the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named –"

"Which ended up being true!" a wizard in the shadows interjected loudly. Harry silently thanked the man.

"– but at the time they had no proof!" Umbridge continued, her voice verging on shrill. "It was suggested by the very highest authorities, with evidence, that Dumbledore was planning to take power. Potter has been famous since he was a baby, and he is highly influential to his classmates. He is a known troublemaker who has twice been warned for using underage magic in front of Muggles and, as most of you very well remember, only narrowly escaped expulsion from Hogwarts last year by some crackpot story about rogue dementors –"

"That YOU sent!" Harry proclaimed, bursting out of his chair.

The courtroom erupted. Tonks was trying to yank Harry, who was still yelling, back into his seat, Mrs. Renaud was speaking loudly to Thicknesse, Cooper was on his feet, and Umbridge and the Wizengamot continued to trade accusations.

"– not to mention his long record of trouble at Hogwarts –"

"– slandered, maligned, accused of –"

" – dangerously unbalanced, leads other students in rebellion –"

"– tried to use the Cruc–"

"– has a point, none of us believed him –"

"– escaped school, broke into the Ministry –"

" – sit down and shut –"

"– and You-Know-Who IS back, so –"

"ENOUGH!" Scrimgeour bellowed over the shouts. "Mr. Potter, Madam Umbridge, sit down. Members of the Wizengamot, contain yourselves. That goes for you, too, Cooper, Tonks."

Harry sat down, breathing heavily. Next to him, Tonks glared at Umbridge while on his other side Cooper muttered under his breath. Umbridge, he was infuriated to see, wore a self-satisfied smirk. A few last whispers and rustles echoed across the courtroom, and then it was silent.

"Any more questions?" Thicknesse looked sternly at the Wizengamot as if to discourage further questioning. "Prosecution, your witness."

"We have no questions, sir."

"As you wish. Now there remains one more matter to be discussed. Aurors Cooper or Tonks, do you have the quill in question?"

Tonks got to her feet reluctantly, holding up a piece of parchment. "Per a warrant authorized by Head Auror Gawain Robards, we searched both the office and home of Madam Umbridge, but we did not find any sort of blood quill."

As with the vial, Thicknesse waved his hand, and Tonks gave him the warrant. "If there is nothing else, we'll adjourn for lunch. This trial will resume at precisely one o'clock."

Harry and his supporters were the first out of the courtroom and into the lift, though Harry was displeased when Umbridge and her entourage made it before the lift gate closed. Umbridge merely glanced at Harry and tightened her lips, but Fudge gave him a somewhat flustered smile.

"Er, Mr. Potter ... ah, Auror Tonks, Auror Cooper," he stammered. "Lovely to see you, Deirdre."

"Mi ... ister Fudge," Tonks replied, her quick change of title obvious. Fudge flushed and turned around.

Harry glared at Umbridge's fat back. Her evasion and justification still rankled, and Harry had a stroke of brilliance as to how to get some small revenge. He nudged Tonks and nodded toward Umbridge, making quiet clip-clopping noises with his tongue, quite similar to the sound of hoof beats. His former teacher twitched and her shoulders jumped as she looked around frantically, a large gold locket on her chest lightly bouncing.

"Goodness, Dolores, is something wrong?" Fudge asked in bewilderment.

"No ... no, I'm – I'm quite alright, Cornelius," she replied. "Just a chill." She glanced at Harry, who quickly adopted an innocent expression as he gazed at the floor numbers.

"They say that happens when someone walks across your grave," Tonks remarked conversationally.

The lift clanged to a stop, and Harry, the Aurors, and Mrs. Renaud spilled out. When the lift was safely away, Harry, Tonks, and Cooper began laughing, and even Mrs. Renaud smiled.

"That was pure genius, Harry!" Tonks exclaimed. "I never thought of the potential of centaur-related humor."

He grinned. "How do you know about that?"

"Are you joking?" Cooper said. "The entire Ministry knows what happened at Hogwarts last year. Well, not all of it, obviously, but someone spilled the beans about her forest excursion."

"Excellent," Harry said with relish. He looked between them. "What do we do now?"

"Now we eat lunch," Tonks told him. "Actually, I have some things I should do while I'm here, so you go ahead. Coop, buy me lunch and I'll meet you at the team room if I miss you in the canteen. Get me ... a chicken salad sandwich and some crisps. Not plain ones, some sort of flavor. And a Coke. Oh and one of those fudgy brownies with the nuts. Thanks, mate." With a wave she took off into the growing crowd.

"Aren't you going to give me money?" Cooper called after her, but Tonks merely smiled saucily and continued. He rolled his eyes. "Minx."

"I've a few errands to take care of as well, and I'll get lunch on the way," Mrs. Renaud said. "Harry, make sure you're back at their team room with at least a quarter of an hour to spare."

"I'll be there," Harry promised.

After they made their way through the line with their assorted food, Harry tried to pay for all three meals, but Cooper would have none of it. Harry resolved to find some other way to thank them for all their assistance, win or lose. He found himself liking the Auror more and more as he dug into his pork chops, unusually hungry after missing a proper breakfast. They had a lot in common. Cooper had been in Gryffindor and was the seeker for the house Quidditch team before Charlie Weasley came along. His father, who had died when Cooper was young, had worked for the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, and it was this that had attracted Cooper to the Ministry, though a talent for DADA led him to the Auror Office. He had known Tonks for years, becoming friends well before they were partnered.

"Sorry for Jason, earlier," Cooper said suddenly in a low voice, his head bent forward as if he didn't want to be overheard. "To say he doesn't have the greatest social skills is an understatement."

Harry shrugged. "It's alright. To be honest, I got the impression he doesn't much like me."

"No, no," Cooper denied with a wave of his hand. "That's just how he is. His entire family was murdered back during You-Know-Who's first rise to power. Jason made a name for himself as a rising star in the department, and after his house was attacked, they put his family under fulltime Auror protection. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough. Pregnant wife, two kids, elderly mother, even the dog – all killed. And the two Aurors on duty as well. They say he lost it and hasn't been the same since, went rogue and left the Ministry for a long time, and who can blame him?"

Harry shook his head. Who could blame him, indeed? Voldemort and his Death Eaters had ruined plenty of lives the first time around, and they were doing their best to resume that activity, it seemed.

Tonks appeared just as they finished their food, laughing over a story Cooper was telling Harry about his training.

"Talking about me?" she asked, dropping into a chair and digging into her sandwich.

"Always," Cooper replied sarcastically.

"I knew it," she said with a smirk. "Your favorite subject, huh?"

Cooper merely shook his head, unable to hide a smile. Harry looked between the two Aurors, wondering what their history was. They were extremely comfortable with one another. Harry also wondered if Cooper knew about Bill.

"So how do you feel, Harry?" Tonks asked, offering him half her brownie.

He chewed the sweet slowly. "Not good," he admitted after he swallowed. "It seems like it comes down to who they believe more, doesn't it? My word versus hers. And the Ministry wasn't too keen to believe anything I said last year."

"That's true," said Cooper. "And I won't pretend it wasn't a blow that we couldn't find the quill. She must have destroyed it."

"What about Veritaserum?" The Aurors regarded Harry blankly. "If I take some, and you question me, it can prove that I'm not lying."

Tonks looked uncomfortable. "We use it to build cases and obtain arrests, but Veritaserum isn't generally used in actual trials. It isn't prohibited, but it's considered somewhat unreliable."

"How?" Harry questioned. What was the point of a truth serum if it was unreliable?

"There are ways to resist it. Employing Occlumency against it, only pretending to drink it, secretly taking an antidote," Coop explained. "And it only forces someone to say what they believe is true. They could argue that you have convinced yourself you are telling the truth."

"Because I am!" Harry retorted angrily.

"We know that," Tonks said quickly. Her tone was so conciliatory that it reminded Harry of Hermione during his frequent outbursts the previous year. Chagrined, he resolved to clamp down on his temper and his mouth.

"There should be a better system," Harry complained. "If memories can be altered, and Veritaserum isn't one hundred percent foolproof, there really is no way to prove I'm not lying, is there?"

"No, but the evidence we do have is compelling. Your testimony was great, Lee backed you up completely, and your scar had a great effect."

"Speaking of Lee, why didn't you tell me he would be here?"

Tonks grinned smugly. "Consider it a surprise. He wasn't hard to find, really; he works for WWN. And he was only too happy to help out."

"Don't worry, Harry," Cooper said, rising and clearing the table with a wave of his wand. "I'm sure it will go in your favor. I'll see you back at the courtroom."

Tonks watched him walk away, and Harry's curiosity got the better of him. "You two seem to be more than just partners, Tonks."

"Oh, yeah," she agreed unexpectedly. "He's my best friend, like a brother to me. We met back during my first year of training."

"Lucky coincidence, then, getting partnered."

"I know! I have no idea how that happened. Just fortunate, I reckon. It makes it very easy to work together." Tonks stretched as they stood, checking her watch. "Unless there's something you need, I suppose we can head back to the team room for a bit."

Surprisingly, they ended up sharing the lift with none other than Rufus Scrimgeour. He nodded politely to Tonks before turning to Harry.

"Mr. Potter. I wonder if you've thought anymore about the letter I sent you over the summer."

"Where you asked me to declare my support for the Ministry? Not really," Harry said honestly. "The thing is, Minister, I still have a hard time trusting you lot. You arrested Stan Shunpike, who's as much of a Death Eater as I am. And I haven't forgotten what you said about me last year."

His face darkened. "Last year was a different administration, Mr. Potter. The very reason I am in office is because we admitted you were right about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Different administration, same people," Harry said boldly, rubbing his right hand. "I find it hard to believe that anything has changed when you can still employ people who were so unwilling to admit they were wrong that they resorted to torture –"

"You shouldn't discuss the trial," Tonks broke in sharply.

"No, of course we shouldn't," Scrimgeour agreed. "Well, Mr. Potter, I wish that you could see that we have the same goal. Your support would go a long way toward improving morale, keeping citizens calm, and passing new legislation."

"And I wish there was a way you could prove that, sir," Harry replied, feeling reckless. "Fudge clearly wasn't interested in facing or defeating Voldemort. I can't see that you're doing anything different beyond throwing the wrong people in jail. We might have the same goal, but how we get there matters, too."

The lift came to a stop, and the gate opened. "Good to know where you stand," Scrimgeour said as he left. "Have a pleasant day."

"You have to give him points for persistence," Tonks remarked when the lift doors closed.

Finally they reached their destination, where Alex, his wife, and another man, the very definition of nondescript, sat over the remains of a lunch. Harry glanced at the stranger curiously, wondering if he had something to do with the trial.

He was right. "Harry, this is Edward Smith. He's a Healer from St. Mungo's, and he agreed to help us," Mrs. Renaud told him.

"This is about the scar on my hand, right?" Harry said, with an appreciative nod to Smith. "Umbridge claimed I did it myself. Is there a way to prove I didn't?"

"Not irrefutable proof, but I can examine you and give my opinion as an expert," he said quietly, as undistinguished in voice as in appearance. "Your hand, please?"

Harry held out his right hand, and for a few minutes Smith poked and prodded, remaining silent. Harry's hand was lit half a dozen different colors, but all spells were painless. While Alex and his wife conversed quietly, Tonks watched with apparent interest.

When Smith finished, he nodded his head. "Everything looks to be in order. As best I can tell, the scars are real and Mr. Potter here did not make them himself. Dee, I'll be outside the courtroom when you need me."

"Thanks, Ed," she said, and without further ado he left.

"Nice bit of luck, a Healer available on such short notice," Tonks remarked.

"I saved his wife's life years ago, and he's never forgotten," Alex said. "When you work in the Ministry, it's useful to have a wide range of contacts. Why do you think I married a solicitor?"

Tonks grinned as Mrs. Renaud raised her eyebrows. "I thought it was because of that killer roast she makes every Sunday."

"That was what clinched the deal," he agreed, giving his wife a very fond smile.

"Go on," she said with a matching expression. "Tonks, Harry, we should return now."

"Good luck, sweetheart," Alex called after them.

On the way, Mrs. Renaud gave Harry an encouraging smile. "It's going as well as it can, Harry. Just a bit more. Do you have any questions?"

Harry thought about it. "No. Actually, wait, I do. Why didn't you question Umbridge?"

"Fair question. Not only did I not want to give her a chance to further paint of picture of you as a decided provocateur, but I also believe she did enough damage with her outburst. It's obvious she actively dislikes you. I couldn't see what could be gained by any more questions."

Harry nodded. "Makes sense. Let's go, then. I'm just ready to get this over with."

Tonks caught his hand, squeezing it. "Almost there. It's in the bag, I can feel it."

"Always the optimist, you are."

"Someone has to. You're a downer."

They were the last ones to return to the courtroom, Cooper awaiting at their table. Thicknesse took charge once again. "Counsel for the prosecution has informed me that they have one final witness. Ms. Renaud, the floor is yours."

Standing, she waved her hand, and the doors opened. Healer Smith entered and took his seat on the witness stand.

"For the record, please state your name and occupation."

"Edward Smith, Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries."

"And how long have you served in this position?"

"Twenty-five years."

"Please tell us what you determined when you examined Mr. Potter's hand less than an hour ago."

He shifted. "As best I could tell, no ordinary cutting charm caused the scars on the back of Mr. Potter's right hand. Furthermore, no spell I know could heal or even lessen the appearance of the scars, leading me to believe they were caused by Dark magic."

"That's all." Mrs. Renaud resumed her seat.

One of Umbridge's solicitors rose, though Harry couldn't be sure if it was the same one as before or different. "Healer Smith, have you ever seen scarring left by a blood quill?"

"I have not."

"So you can't say these scars were, without a doubt, caused by using a blood quill."'

"I cannot. Only Dark magic."

"That's all I have."

He was dismissed, and Thicknesse leaned forward, looking at both Harry and Umbridge. "Do either of you have any more witnesses or testimony? Very well. Both parties are to wait in side rooms while the Wizengamot deliberates."

Harry was led to a small room off to the right, though thankfully it wasn't the same as Umbridge. Drinks and snacks had been provided, as well as magazines and the _Daily Prophet_. Harry realized he could be waiting hours for a verdict. The minutes passed horribly slowly. While Mrs. Renaud busied herself with a paper, Cooper did a puzzle in one of the magazine and Tonks paced restlessly. Harry simply sat, waiting.

"There's no way they can't convict her, really," Tonks rambled. "I mean, your story is backed up by another student, a memory, and the opinion of a Healer. There's no way, just no way ..."

"Tonks?" She stopped and glanced at Harry. "You're making me nervous."

She sat, looking guilty. "Sorry. I was never a patient person."

Cooper scoffed, not looking up, and Tonks glared at him. "Quiet, you."

Now Harry was the one possessed with nervous energy, and he followed her path, pacing around the room. Tonks began to tap her wand rhythmically on the table, humming quietly. After about a hundred rotations, Harry couldn't stand the quiet any longer.

"They're taking a long time. Is this a good or bad sign?"

Mrs. Renaud sighed, laying down her paper. "It's really hard to say, Harry. It could be the verdict that's taking so long, it could be the sentencing. I wish I could tell you. It's all based on opinions, and that means it will take longer. I do think you have a very strong case."

"Harry, you like Quidditch, right?" Cooper held out his magazine. "Look at this article discussing some rule changes they're trying to pass."

Harry seized the distraction gratefully, and it occupied him for some time. Both Aurors were fanatic Quidditch supporters, though for opposing teams, and Harry enjoyed siding with Cooper just to bait Tonks. Eventually, though, the conversation wound down, and they resumed their quiet activities.

Harry had no idea how much time had passed when the door finally opened. Swallowing, he walked back to their table, his feet made of lead. He scanned the faces of the Wizengamot, but they didn't reveal anything. Some were eager, some were expressionless, and some were downright sulky. It was conflicting, and suddenly Harry had a bad feeling.

There were no murmurs this time. All eyes were on Thicknesse, and he began tersely. "This was a difficult case. Without clear-cut proof on either side, it came down to reviewing what evidence we were given, as well as the testimony. And in the end, with much debate, it is the decision of the Wizengamot that we find Dolores Jane Umbridge ..."

Harry leaned forward.

Tonks held her breath.

Cooper clenched his hands.

Mrs. Renaud fiddled with a quill.

Fudge twirled his bowler hat.

Umbridge stared at Thicknesse.

"... guilty," he finished.

Harry's entire table breathed a collective sigh of relief while the defense remained frozen. _He said guilty_, Harry told himself over and over. He had won. He had actually won the trial. He had never quite allowed himself to believe he would win, and now he repeated the words in his head with relish. _I won._

"... are hereby terminated from your employment at the Ministry of Magic." Harry belatedly realized Thicknesse was still speaking. "Furthermore, you are sentenced to six months at Azkaban Prison."

_Azkaban?_ Harry's jaw dropped. This was a dream come true. Though six months wasn't very long, it was still Azkaban.

The members of the Wizengamot began to stand, preparatory to leaving, and Umbridge's counsel immediately started speaking heatedly to Thicknesse and the Minister. She herself remained frozen in place, no doubt aghast at her future.

"Let's go," Mrs. Renaud said under her breath.

Each grasping one of his arms, Tonks and Cooper marched Harry from the courtroom. The area immediately outside the door was crowded with reporters and photographers, and for a moment Harry was blinded by the flash of cameras.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter, what's the verdict?"

"Why didn't Albus Dumbledore accompany you to the trial?"

"Mr. Potter, is it true that Dolores Umbridge had students practice the Cruciatus Curse on animals in her classroom?"

"Mr. Potter, what can you tell us about the rumors that you're related to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"What really happened in the Department of Mysteries?"

"Is it true that the Headmaster has Aurors stationed at Hogwarts in order to train you to be the next Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Harry, are you seeing anyone?"

"OI!" Tonks bellowed, unceremoniously shoving aside one particularly aggressive reporter. "Bugger off and leave him, you pack of bloody trolls, or I'll play reporter bowling all the way to the lift." Dragging Harry with her, she elbowed her way through the shouting mob, muttering obscenities and colorful threats the entire way.

"I'll handle them," Mrs. Renaud said. "Go ahead."

"Thank you!" Harry called as he was propelled to the lift.

"You'll be written up for that, you know," Cooper remarked to his partner conversationally as he shut the gate of the lift in the face of a photographer, ensuring they had it to themselves.

"I don't care," Tonks retorted. "Didn't their mums teach them any manners?"

Both Aurors gazed at Harry, wearing matching grins, and it took him a moment to realize that he, too, was grinning broadly.

"We won," he said faintly.

"_You_ won," Tonks amended.

Harry shook his head. "No, we did. All I did was talk. You, both of you, put so much work into this. I really don't know how to thank you. I've got to do something."

Cooper protested easily, but Tonks cut him off. "Well, Harry, first I'd like a Firebolt, and then perhaps some new earrings – silver, not gold – and some Weird Sisters tickets, that last concert was banging, and –"

Cooper slapped a hand over her mouth, wrapping his other arm around her neck in a mock chokehold. For some reason it bothered Harry to see them so close. "Ignore her, Harry. Your thanks is enough. It's our job. You're a nice guy, and we're more than happy to help right some wrongs. Right, Tonks?"

She grimaced when he released her, massaging her neck. "Blimey, Coop. Sure, 'your thanks is enough', Harry."

Harry felt lighter than he had in days. "So, what do we do now?" he asked as the lift stopped on level one.

"I suppose you go back to Hogwarts," Cooper replied, glancing at Tonks for confirmation. "Your part is over. The longer you hang around here, the more likely it is you'll encounter a reporter."

"That's all you needed to say," Harry said quickly, and they laughed.

"Trying to get rid of me so soon?" Tonks pouted. "And here I thought you missed me."

"I do," Cooper said, and the sincerity shown through. "Take care of yourself up there, okay?"

"Wilco." She saluted, and then gave him a much warmer hug and kiss on the cheek. "Don't fall to pieces without me."

"I do my best." He shook Harry's hand firmly. "Nice to finally meet you, mate. I'm sure we'll see each other again."

"I look forward to it. Thanks again."

With a smile, Cooper disappeared into the distance. Tonks and Harry headed up to the next level, where Tonks made a beeline for the loo while Harry waited on a nearby bench.

"Harry Potter?" Harry looked up to see a short, mild–looking man standing next to him. "Gawain Robards, Head –"

"– of the Auror Office," Harry finished, standing up hastily. "Of course."

He smiled with amusement. "Famous already, am I?"

"I've heard Tonks mention you before," Harry said, embarrassed.

"Okay. Well, first off, congratulations on the trial."

"Thank you. Word spreads fast around here."

"That it does. This lot gossips more than teenage girls at Hogwarts." He tapped his temple. "Word to the wise. Now, I hear you're interested in joining us in a few years."

"I – well, yeah, I am." How did he know that?

"That's good to hear. I must say, I think we'd be glad to have you."

"You – you would?" Harry repeated, astonished. Was he actually having this conversation?

Robards smiled. He was so unassuming that Harry had a hard time picturing him as a feared Auror. "You might think it's because of all that Chosen One nonsense, but actually, it has more to do with your little excursion here last June. Of course I don't approve of breaking into the Ministry, but from what Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt said, you held your own against fully fledged Death Eaters."

Harry's face burned. Held his own? Right. If the Order hadn't shown up when they did, they would have found five dead teenagers and a captured Harry. "Sir, I don't –"

Robards held up his hand. "When you're in the midst of a duel, it never seems like you're doing as much as you actually are. We all have luck; it's how you take advantage of it that counts. If my Aurors are impressed, I am. Combine that with the nerve it took to take on the Ministry as you did today, and I'd be surprised if you didn't have the makings of an Auror."

"Thank you, sir."

"Of course I can't promise anything, nor would I to a sixth-year student, but take the right classes, study hard for your N.E.W.T.s, and send me an owl when you're preparing your application next year. If you choose to do so, of course."

"I will. Thanks," Harry said, flattered.

He smiled again. "And in the meantime, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask."

Harry opened his mouth, then shut it. "Actually, there is," he blurted impulsively. Robards raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. "Stan Shunpike. He was arrested, sent to Azkaban for being a Death Eater. The thing is, sir, is that I sort of know Stan. And there's no way he's a Death Eater. If you could just look into it ..."

Robards hesitated, sighing heavily. "I'll take a look. But I have to say, Harry: I've been in the Auror Office for many years, and sometimes it's the people you least expect. Remember that."

"I will. Thank you, sir."

"Now on that note, I wonder if there is something you can do for me in return."

_What could I possibly do for him?_ "Um, sure?"

Robards leaned forward, speaking confidentially. "I think it's no secret that things aren't going well for us. I'm sure you heard about Amelia Bones a few months ago. Losing the Head of what is probably our most important department right now, and in such a manner, was a huge blow. I'm sure you agree that the Ministry needs to step it up."

Harry nodded eagerly. This was how he wished his conversation with the Minister had gone.

"Many of us in the Ministry wish to take a firmer stance against those aligned with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rather than allow them to do as they please. However, we've run into a few obstacles. Namely, the public is understandably wary about giving the Ministry more power. What I wonder is if you'll consider showing the public that you're on our side. Nothing big, just a few appearances at press conferences and the like."

"I don't know how much good that will do," Harry said uncomfortably.

"I've worked here my entire adult life, Harry, and I've learned to never underestimate the power of public opinion. Whether you like it or not, you've become a figurehead in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, with your long history with him and this Chosen One business. Of course, we would never ask you to speak for something you didn't fully support yourself. All I'm asking is that you consider it."

Harry brushed at his fringe, trying to discern any hidden meaning. Robards seemed perfectly nice, and hadn't Tonks spoken favorably of her boss? And unlike Scrimgeour, he demonstrated a willingness to change, giving Harry an out if he didn't approve of their policies.

"I guess that wouldn't hurt," he finally decided.

"Excellent. I'll be in touch."

_Did I just make a deal with the Head Auror?_ Harry wanted to pinch himself. What a day.

Robards smiled over Harry's shoulder. "Tonks! How are you?"

"Good, sir," she said, back in casual dress. "I see you met Harry."

"I did. How's Scotland?"

"Cold, sir."

He chuckled. "That bad?"

"Worse, sir. It's boring."

"That's a good thing. Boring and quiet, just how we want it, isn't it?" He nodded to both of them. "Have a nice day."

Tonks waited until she and Harry were alone. "Chatting up my boss, Harry?"

"He's nice," Harry replied.

"He is, but I hope you know what you're doing."

"What do you mean?"

"Robards was playing politics before you were born. It's a very tricky field, one that I stay well out of." She ran a hand through her hair. "If you get in bed with the Ministry, be careful. That's all I'm saying."

"I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself," Harry said stiffly.

Tonks gave him a half-smile that he took to be patronizing. Her disapproval annoyed Harry. What harm could showing his support for the Ministry do? The more people actively against Voldemort, the better.

"So. What do you want to do?" she asked in an abrupt change of subject.

"Uh ... don't we have to go back to school?"

"Tsk, tsk, Harry. I got you a full day's pass from school. Skive off the rest of the afternoon and let's go celebrate." She grinned mischievously.

Harry glanced around warily. "You're mad."

"All the best people are."

"And a horrible role model."

Tonks beamed in triumph, linking her arm with his as they headed for the exit. "I never pretended to be anything else."

They took off, and though her manner was nonchalant, Tonks's eyes were constantly roving, clearly watching for danger. After wandering around Westminster for a bit, sipping hot chocolates, they ended up going to see a film, a comedy where Tonks laughed so loudly she was shushed by other patrons. Harry insisted on paying for her ticket and popcorn, as a thanks for her assistance with the trial.

"Why, Harry, is this a date?" she asked playfully as they took their seats.

"That depends on what happens afterward," he replied cheekily without thinking about it, and he was gratified that she laughed.

The sun had set before they returned to Hogwarts, apparating outside the gates and walking up the path to the school. Though still euphoric over his victory, Harry walked quietly, his thoughts drifting to other issues on the horizon. Draco Malfoy, the Headmaster, the prophecy, and ...

"Something on your mind, Harry?" Tonks asked tentatively as the castle came into view.

"Nothing."

"Okay. Only you've been looking at me like a wounded puppy for the last few days. I thought it was the trial, but now it's over."

"I haven't looked like a wounded puppy," he denied.

"If you say so," she said in a disbelieving sing-song voice.

He hesitated, knowing he shouldn't say what he was about to. Hermione would hate it. "Do you have something going on with Bill?" he finally asked, unable to withhold his curiosity anymore.

"Bill who?" Either she was a very good actress, or she was truly clueless.

"Bill Weasley."

She surprised him by laughing. "Me and Bill? What gave you that idea?"

_That doesn't sound like a denial._ "Doesn't matter," he persisted. "Do you?"

"In case you missed the bulletin, he's engaged to Fleur," she said with a trace of irritation. "No, I'm not messing around with him."

"Are you sure?" Harry immediately wanted to take it back.

She stopped walking, facing him with her hands on her hips, the classic angry girl pose. "No, I've conveniently forgotten I'm secretly shagging Bill Weasley. Apparently he's not very good at it. What the hell, Potter?"

Harry brushed at his hair, flustered. "I – it's just – well – Ron saw you kiss!"

"Did he?" she asked skeptically. "Did he somehow mistake me for a French part-Veela? I can see the resemblance."

"He said he saw you kiss him," Harry muttered, now cursing Ron for putting the idea in his head.

"When was this?"

"Early in the summer ... after we left Hogwarts but before Hermione and I went to the Burrow."

"Early in the ..." Tonks creased her forehead, thinking. Suddenly her eyes opened wide, and she wore a self-effacing grin. "We-ell … maybe he did think he saw something like that."

"Oh," Harry said coldly.

"It's not what you think. Bill and I had a thing once, a long time ago, and we've remained friends. I went along ring shopping when he decided to propose, and he was so nervous that we went out for drinks afterward. He got completely pissed, and I helped him home although I was none too sober myself. When I took him to his room, he kissed me goodnight, all platonic and proper. It was nothing. I had no idea Ron was watching, the sneaky git. I like Fleur, and I would never do that to any girl. Believe me on that." She gave Harry a sideways glance. "Why were you so bothered about that?"

"I thought you were a better person than that," he answered honestly.

"Lucky for you, I am," Tonks said with a cheeky wink.

Harry grinned at the ground and continued walking. After a few minutes, he gave her a sly look. "So, you and Bill?"

She rolled her eyes. "Barely, to the point where I don't think Molly ever knew. Back around the Quidditch World Cup we ran into each other and had a fling. We were on and off for the next year or so, only together when we could be together, know what I mean, and it ran its course. I was completely out of the picture before Fleur came into it. I admit the first few Order meetings were awkward, but we got over it. Fleur knows all about us. Besides, Bill and I were never – I was never in love with Bill."

Feeling strangely relieved, Harry watched the castle grow larger. When the front doors of Hogwarts drew near, he pulled on Tonks's arm, wanting to say something in private. "Tonks, I want to say thank you. You've done so much for me – the training and the trial and with Malfoy ... I wish I could do something for you."

"Just kick Voldemort's reborn arse and we'll call it even," she quipped.

Harry smiled grimly. "I hope to, but I want to thank you especially." Not sure of exactly how to express himself, Harry took a step forward, catching her eye.

By the time he decided her eyes were exactly the color of the sea, she faltered under his gaze. "Harry, you know I'll always have your back, and as your friend I'd do nearly anything for you, but it's just – well, I – it's only I don't want you to mistake gratitude for anything else. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"So you don't think I'm grateful to you?" he asked confusedly.

"No! I know you are, good Merlin, you thanked me a thousand and one times. But, uh, you don't owe me anything. It's what friends do, right?" Tonks smiled easily. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I think I'll just head up to my room. It's been a long day, yeah?"

It had been, and Harry could still feel the tension in his shoulders, but he was too jubilant to care much. "No session tonight?" A good duel was an excellent way to work off stress.

She grinned. "You've been by my side all day. What, can't get enough of me?"

"Never," he joked.

"You'll have to manage. Go celebrate in the common room. Take that pretty bird of yours to a dark corner."

Tonks winked, but suddenly Harry felt uncomfortable. Did asking Parvati out mean they were a couple? Cho hadn't exactly prepared him for the world of dating, and Harry knew he should be more excited about the prospect of sneaking away with Parvati. "We'll see," he mumbled noncommittally. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Hopefully. Bye, mate." With a wave, the Metamorphmagus was off.

"Tonks, hold on!" Harry called on impulse. When she turned around, he hugged her, and he was surprised to feel her lean into him. "Today was great."

"Hey, you did the hard stuff. All I did was look pretty, and that comes naturally."

Harry chuckled as they said their goodbyes again, and when she disappeared into Hogwarts, he followed leisurely, enjoying what would undoubtedly be a brief moment of carefree. Dinner was already cleared, so he decided to head for the kitchens to beg for food. However, near the Hufflepuff common room, he was startled when he came upon the Headmaster himself.

"Er, hello, Professor," he said awkwardly.

Dumbledore smiled, seemingly unconcerned about why Harry was in the basement. "Hello, Harry. Congratulations on the trial."

"Thank you, sir. How did you know already?"

"I was there. I am a member of the Wizengamot."

Of course he was. Harry knew that. "Right. I didn't see you."

"I stayed in the back. I was unsure if you would welcome my presence, given our last conversation." Harry thought he saw the twinkle in the old blue eyes dim.

"Yeah ... um, I wanted to ask you something."

"My ears are yours."

Harry played with the edge of his robe. "Is there any chance I can be a part of the Order? I mean, they want to defeat Voldemort, and I want to defeat Voldemort ... I know I can't go on missions or whatever, but I'd like to know what's going on."

Dumbledore smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sorry, Harry. If I allowed you, I would have to allow Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley and Miss Weasley ... you see the problem."

Not really, seeing as they weren't the one in a prophecy, but Harry just shrugged.

"I wonder," Dumbledore continued. "Have you given any thought to continuing our lessons?"

"I don't know," Harry said uncomfortably.

Dumbledore couldn't muffle his sigh. "Very well, Harry. If you change your mind, please come see me. All I want to do is help you, and even if you can't see it, our lessons are important. I hope you believe that. Now, I shall say good evening. Continue on, I'm sure the house-elves will be happy to oblige you."

"Sir?" Harry asked, startled, but the Headmaster merely smiled benignly and swept away.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Somehow I got myself into writing another fic in collaboration with lightblue-Nymphadora & respitechristopher (who are both great writers) in which we attempt to shamelessly include & mock every single cliche that inevitably crops up in most post-OotP fics (which you are reading at this very moment). It's purely crackfic & hopefully enjoyable. Check it out - "Like Juggling Snowballs through Hell", found on LbN's profile. I make my debut at chapter 3.


	7. Trouble

**Trouble  
><strong>

Harry was a hero in the halls of Hogwarts. Once he announced the verdict, Seamus threw a huge party in the Gryffindor common room that very night, complete with food from the kitchens, loud music, and Professor McGonagall telling them off at one in the morning. He was surprised to see a huge banner with a picture of Umbridge sobbing behind iron bars, shining with Dean's trademark talent. He was even more surprised when Parvati threw her arms around him and kissed him in front of everyone. Besides the knowing faces of Parvati's roommates, the majority of the House gaped or grinned in amusement, with the notable exception of Romilda Vane. She appeared quite ready to hit someone, and Harry hurried Parvati to the other side of the room.

The story occupied the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ the following morning, and Hermione read it aloud, to great cheers, at the Gryffindor table. All the teachers smiled at or congratulated Harry, and students he didn't know from other Houses came up to him in the corridors. A tiny second year even asked for his autograph, much to his embarrassment.

"Everyone is happy to see good news for once," Luna Lovegood said at lunch when she came over from the Ravenclaw table. "Daddy tries to print as many positive stories as he can, but he also says it's his duty to inform the public about things the Ministry doesn't want you to know, like the Rotfang Conspiracy."

With the admiration of the entire school and a girlfriend at his side, Harry might have been tempted to strut through the halls, had it not been for an unpleasant incident a few days after the trial.

**oOo**

Harry didn't expect to see the white form of Hedwig swoop down at breakfast. No one wrote him anymore. Assuming perhaps a barely legible scrawl from Hagrid, he instead read a now-familiar messy, loopy script.

_H –  
>Midnight by the Fat Lady. Bring your jacket.<em>  
>– <em>T<em>

"Who wrote you, Harry?" Hermione asked interestedly, leaning over.

"Lupin," Harry lied glibly, shoving the note in his pocket. He glanced up at the staff table, and though he couldn't be certain from this distance, he thought Tonks winked at him. He ignored Hermione's narrowed eyes even as he ignored an extra thump of his heart.

"Professor Lupin?" Neville asked from across the table, surprised. "Do you keep in touch with him?"

Harry spread jam on his toast. "Yeah. He knew my parents and godfather."

"He knew my parents, too," Neville said quietly. "Not well, but he told me once they sometimes worked together before … I always liked Professor Lupin. He was nice."

"He is," Harry agreed, glancing at Neville. It always took him by surprise how similar their backgrounds were. He made a mental note that when the time finally arrived, he needed to bring Neville into the Order. Not only was his friend the type of person the Order needed (even if he wasn't the most talented), he, too, deserved the chance to avenge his parents.

Lost in his thoughts both about Neville and what Tonks planned that needed a jacket, Harry walked to class automatically, paying no mind to his surroundings as he lagged behind his classmates until a furious whisper from an adjacent corridor filtered through his inner deliberations.

"How many times do I have to tell you, you giant berks? You'll find out when it's ready and not any sooner."

Harry knew that voice, and chancing a quick glance down the corridor, he confirmed it. Draco Malfoy had his two massive cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, cornered. He seemed to be attempting to keep his voice down, but the acoustics of the deserted corridor worked against him. Completely forgetting about class, Harry pressed against the wall at the very edge of the corner, as close as he could be without being spotted.

"You're not our boss, Draco," Goyle protested, his voice deep and slow. "We don't have to do what you say."

"Yeah, we don't have to do what you say," Crabbe echoed.

"All I need you to do is keep any nosy idiots away from me. Potter already came sniffing around once, and now that Auror bitch is here." Harry could practically hear his sneer. "I know you two have always been thick, but is it really that hard to stand outside a door?"

"We're not as dumb as we look." Harry stifled a chortle as Goyle continued. "We should know what you're doing in there. It's not fair."

"Yeah, it's not fair."

Malfoy lowered his voice, and Harry strained to hear. "Do I have to remind you who gave me my orders?"

"We're helping, too. You're not surp-, supe-, better than us."

"Yeah, you're not better than us."

"Really? Do either of you have _this_?" A pregnant pause. "No, I didn't think so. So keep your fat mouths shut and do as you're told, and we'll all be rewarded in the end."

Harry couldn't stand it anymore. Malfoy was showing them the Dark Mark, and if he could just get a glimpse of the tattoo on his arm, Harry had the proof he needed to take the Slytherin down. Pulling his wand just in case, he strolled around the corner. "Having a friendly chat, are we?"

Malfoy immediately shoved his sleeve down, and Harry grimaced. _Real smooth, Potter. Way to announce yourself before you get a glimpse. Tonks would be right proud._

"What did I tell you about nosing around, Potter?" Crabbe and Goyle took a step forward menacingly. Though they were physically impressive, Harry knew that even a levitation charm was a struggle for the pair, and with his newly honed dueling skills intact, he didn't move a muscle.

"Just thought I'd see what you were up to. We haven't had a real heart-to-heart since the second week of term."

Malfoy smirked. "As lovely as that would be, I have other things to attend to."

Harry moved closer, his wand in plain sight. "So I heard. Must be a big deal if you need two lookouts. What is it you're so afraid of?"

Malfoy's face darkened, a contrast to his silver-blond hair. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do." Malfoy's wand was in his hand, but neither Crabbe's nor Goyle's was. Harry was sure he could handle Malfoy before the other two so much as blinked. "But I truly am curious about what you fear. Is it being caught in whatever you're doing, or is it actually having to do it?"

He had touched a nerve. "Fuck off, Potter," Malfoy snarled, now the one closing the distance. "You have no idea who you're dealing with."

"I probably have a better idea than you, actually," Harry retorted. "Faced him a few times myself, remember? Quit while you're ahead. They're on to you. Why do you think Tonks is here?"

"Who?" Completely clueless.

"The Auror. She's stationed in the castle because of you and your mission." The shock was evident, and Harry grew bolder. "I did that, you know. I'll do whatever it takes to bring him down, and if you get in the way, so be it. You're going to fail, and I don't know if you should be more scared of the Ministry or Voldemort."

He had a split second to react, diving to the left to avoid a red jet of light. Two quick flicks, and the wands of Crabbe and Goyle soared out of sight behind Harry. Unfortunately, this moment of diverted attention left him wide open to Malfoy's next spell, and Harry was thrown against the wall, the breath knocked out of him.

For now Harry only wished to incapacitate Malfoy, not injure, so he flung out a stunner, but his aim was off. Malfoy shouted something in response, but Harry couldn't make out the words. He quickly conjured a shield, purposefully deflecting the spell directly toward his opponent in double-time. Malfoy cried out in pain as he was struck but didn't fall, and Harry took the opportunity to freeze Crabbe and Goyle before he prepared another stunner, concentrating on the incantation as he waved his wand –

And then suddenly he was upside down, dangling as if from an invisible rope wrapped around his left ankle. He grabbed futilely at his wand as it slipped out of his surprised grasp and bounced on the floor. Strangely, Malfoy, too, was hanging upside down, glaring at something behind Harry.

"Having fun?" Tonks strolled into view, casually holding her wand aloft. She scooped up all four loose wands.

"What do you think you're doing?" Malfoy demanded, his face slowly turning red.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," she replied, casting an amused eye at the prone forms of Crabbe and Goyle. "Dueling in the hall? Who was winning?"

"What?" Harry and Malfoy asked.

"Who was winning?"

"I was," they claimed in unison. "No, you weren't."

"I see," she remarked wryly.

"Are you going to let us down?" Malfoy complained.

"Sure." She lowered her wand, and each boy dropped in a painful heap. A quick wave, and Crabbe and Goyle were freed. She tossed wands to each of them, and Harry kept his out, not trusting Malfoy to refrain from cursing him even if Tonks was there. "Anyone hurt?"

Harry shook his head. Just his pride. Malfoy shook his head as well, but he held a hand to his stomach, and Tonks zeroed in.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he muttered, turning away.

She rolled her eyes, sighing impatiently. "Show me and I'll heal it." He didn't move. "Oh for Merlin's sake, I'm not going to hurt you." They stared at each other, a contest of wills, and Harry realized this was probably the first time the cousins had ever interacted. Finally Malfoy relented and pulled up his shirt a few inches, revealing a short gash. _Good thing I blocked whatever that was._ With a wave of Tonks's wand, it healed, leaving a pink mark.

"Superficial, you'll be fine." She smiled slightly, but Malfoy just looked away again. "Don't worry, no thanks necessary. Sorry, lads, but I'm going to have to tell a teacher. C'mon."

"You don't have any authority over me," Malfoy snapped, standing his ground.

Tonks pivoted on her heel, arching her eyebrows. "Really? Underage wizard, meet Ministry employee. Yeah, I reckon I do have the authority here. I'm telling a teacher either way, so you might as well come with."

Malfoy rolled his eyes in much the same manner Tonks had a minute ago and began walking.

"Gee, thanks," Harry muttered sarcastically as they started off, Malfoy on her other side.

Tonks grinned, then stopped, turning around. "Oi! Tweedledee and Tweedledum!" Crabbe and Goyle looked around questioningly. "Yeah, you. Come on, you're going, too."

Harry slowed slightly to let the Slytherins in front of him, and Tonks matched his speed. Nudging him, she nodded at the two larger boys and gave him a thumbs up. Harry grinned but didn't dare talk to her with Malfoy in earshot.

She took them to the staffroom, where she made them wait while she stuck her head inside. "Professor Sinistra? Spare a minute?"

The strict Astronomy teacher followed her former student into the corridor, frowning at the four boys.

"Found these four dueling in the Transfiguration corridor. I figured a teacher should know, so I brought them here."

Professor Sinistra nodded curtly. "Thank you. I'll handle it."

Harry cast an aggrieved eye at Tonks as she passed, but the Auror simply looked ahead, the corners of her mouth twitching. She was enjoying this far too much.

"By the way, Professor, it was three against one, and Harry was holding his own. For what it's worth."

Harry and company looked at her, but the Auror just continued walking, and Professor Sinistra merely jerked her head in a nod.

"Dueling in the corridor?" Sinistra stared at them with pursed lips. "I would expect you to have grown out of this by now. Ten points each from Slytherin, you three, and ten points from Gryffindor, Potter. A detention as well. Report to your Head's office tonight at nine. Now, get to class. Need I escort you to prevent any more fighting?"

"No, Professor," they muttered in unison.

Harry took off in the opposite direction as the Slytherins despite knowing he needed to go the other way. He was already late to Herbology, and a few more minutes wouldn't make a difference.

Damn Malfoy. Harry grudgingly admitted that he had been quicker than Harry expected; whether it was because Malfoy had also improved his dueling skills or because Harry had overestimated his own, he didn't know. He clenched his hands, frustrated with himself. He had been so close to getting some solid proof, but he had rushed in and plainly told Malfoy he was being watched. All he knew now was that Malfoy required Crabbe and Goyle to guard a room. But what room? Their dorm? An unused classroom?

Harry mused on where Malfoy was hiding and what he was doing inside it all the way to the greenhouses, where Professor Sprout took a further five points.

**oOo**

"Harry?"

Harry looked up from the Gryffindor table, hastily swallowing his steak and kidney pie. "Hey, Parvati. Er, I saved you a seat." He slid over, crashing into Ginny, who sent him an aggravated look before moving. "How was Divination?"

"It was great. Professor Trelawney worked with us individually on cartomancy, and I …"

Harry nodded attentively even though he wasn't interested in divination in the slightest. He had been happier to give that up than History of Magic. But having Parvati as a girlfriend was … okay. Not much different than being her friend, except that occasionally she pulled him aside to snog, which was okay, too. However, he still didn't feel that peculiar sensation in his stomach that he associated with Cho.

"If I'm right, that means we'll have nice weather when we go to Hogsmeade," Parvati finished.

"That's good," he replied absently, glancing up at the staff table. Tonks, in the middle of cleaning up pumpkin juice that he suspected she had just knocked over, paused and waved. Harry grinned in return.

Parvati followed his glance. "You're good friends with her, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Tonks is cool." Harry vaguely felt he'd done something wrong. "Uh, isn't she, Hermione?"

"What? Yes, of course." Hermione frowned at him.

Harry finished his lunch in a rather annoyed mood. Girls. How had he managed to upset three of them in one meal? When Hermione left, he quickly followed. They hadn't yet had enough privacy for him to tell her about Malfoy.

Parvati accompanied him, and Harry stifled his frustration. He was uncomfortably aware that he should be sharing these things with her as well.

"Are you going to tell me why you were fighting with Malfoy before Herbology?" Hermione asked.

"You fought Malfoy?" Parvati repeated. "You didn't tell me that."

"Oh, well, um … it was just this morning. He's Malfoy, isn't he? He was being a git." Harry gave Hermione a look that he hoped conveyed there was more to the story.

Parvati was unusually quiet as they headed to the library for their free period. Harry smiled and took her hand, feeling it was the thing to do, and though she returned the smile, it was pensive.

Harry decided to return to the common room once he finished copying Hermione's Herbology notes that he had missed. Both girls, deep in essays, elected to stay, and so Harry set off on his own. He was no more than five minutes out of the library when he heard an unmistakable sound that struck terror into his heart.

Giggling. Whispers and giggling.

Harry glanced over his shoulder, tightening his grip on his bag. Sure enough, a pack of girls had just rounded the corner. One spotted his glance and waved.

"Hi, Harry!" The other girls, none of whom he knew, snapped up their heads and locked onto their target.

_Crap._ Harry increased his pace, knowing he was obviously retreating and not caring in the slightest. Neither polite excuses nor a girlfriend had dampened the enthusiasm of the fangirls; perhaps outright avoidance would. He ducked behind a tapestry into a hidden corridor and made tracks for the other side.

"Watch it!"

Harry skidded to a stop, immediately turning away when he recognized the redhead he nearly bowled over. "Sorry." He flipped a thumb over his shoulder. "Girls. Romilda Vane and the like. Barmy lot, aren't they?"

Ron shrugged, intently examining a spot on the wall next to Harry's head. "Must be terrible to have girls follow you around all the time."

Harry gritted his teeth. Hermione had tried to talk to both of them, but each stubbornly insisted he wasn't in the wrong. Harry had been spending a lot more time with Neville, Hermione, and Parvati as a result of his estrangement with Ron and he enjoyed their company, but deep inside he knew it wasn't the same. Nevertheless, he was done simply ignoring Ron's jealousy.

"You can have them," he snapped. "I'll even tell them your name."

"I don't need any favors from you, thanks," Ron replied acerbically.

Harry ran a hand over his hair, pushing past his former friend. "Fine. See you at Quidditch practice, then."

Harry stalked all the way to Gryffindor tower, where the dark look on his face discouraged any conversation. Dropping his bag on the floor, he fell onto his bed. He'd rather dodge giggling girls any day rather than swap barbs with Ron. What an unpleasant day. And then Harry groaned, remembering he still had a detention on top of it all.

**oOo**

When nine o'clock rolled around, Harry knocked on Professor McGonagall's door. It opened of its own accord, and he entered her office reluctantly.

"Have a seat." Grimacing at her terse tone, Harry did as he was told, and she finally looked up from her work, lips thinned. "I know you and Draco Malfoy have shared a mutual enmity from your very first day. While I have no doubt that he is equally to blame, there is no excuse for dueling. Will you ever learn to simply ignore each other? You have shown true maturity this term, Potter. Your marks have never been better, and you've hardly been in trouble. You can imagine my disappointment to find you in detention for a silly schoolboy squabble."

"It's not just a squabble, Professor!" Harry protested, keeping his voice in check. "It's much more than that."

She arched a thin eyebrow. "Is it? Do tell."

_Here goes nothing._ Harry dove into the tale of Malfoy, from Diagon Alley all the way to their duel. By now the story was almost routine. While he didn't want it to become front page news, Harry knew intuitively he could trust McGonagall. Not only had she been his teacher and Head of House for over five years, but she was also an Order member and close associate of Dumbledore. Rumors about the two had made the rounds in Hogwarts corridors for years.

"And so it was you who brought Nymphadora here," she mused when he finished.

"Yeah." Harry held his breath. Dare he hope that she believed him?

"You said you informed Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, but he didn't think it was important," Harry said, all but scowling. "Do you believe me, Professor?"

"Do I believe he said these things? Of course. I have no reason to doubt your truthfulness. Do I believe Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater? That's less clear. It's certainly suspicious."

"It is? I mean, yes, it is!" Harry was astonished.

"Unfortunately, the problem I see, and I suspect Nymphadora has told you this as well, is that you have no proof beyond his words. Do you understand, Harry?"

Harry slumped a little in his chair. "Yes, I do."

"However, I will be keeping a very close eye on him. I'll speak to Professor Dumbledore, and perhaps Professor Snape as well."

"Professor Snape?" Harry repeated. "Why?"

Her eyebrows inched further up her forehead. "Why? Because he is Draco's Head of House, knows him well, and is best placed to watch him. I know you don't like Professor Snape, students rarely do, but he is as much a member of the Order as I am."

Harry nodded, deciding to ignore this since she was on his side. He now had someone else watching Malfoy. The noose was tightening. If they could just get some solid proof …

"This doesn't change anything, Potter," McGonagall continued briskly, now fully back into teacher mode. "No matter what Draco Malfoy may be doing, you cannot go around dueling other students. Mr. Filch awaits you in the staffroom with some undoubtedly unpleasant task. Please use these next few hours as a reminder to keep your temper in check, as you have been doing so well this term."

Harry concealed his grimace. Detention with Filch was always the worst kind, with the caretaker mumbling on about whippings and hanging students from chains, and as Filch was the only one in the entire castle who had appreciated Umbridge, Harry was most likely his least favorite person at the moment.

**oOo**

It was already a quarter past midnight when Harry sprinted back to Gryffindor Tower, cursing Filch under his breath. Fortunately a colorful figure still reclined against the wall opposite the Fat Lady, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sorry, sorry," he panted as he approached the Metamorphmagus. "Thanks to you, I had detention, and Filch kept me late."

She wrinkled her nose. "A Filch detention? Ugh, those were the worst. Sorry, mate. Now get your jacket! It's cold outside."

"What are we going outside for?" he asked even as he climbed into the common room.

"You'll see."

Harry was as stealthy as possible as he retrieved his jacket from his trunk, mindful of his sleeping roommates. Seamus mumbled something and rolled over, but luckily he didn't wake. As he returned to the corridor, he thought he heard something behind him, but no one followed through the portrait hole.

"Excellent! Andiamo."

"Andi-what?" Harry repeated as he followed her.

"Andiamo. It's Italian, means 'let's go.'"

"You speak Italian?"

"Nope. When I was fifteen, my dad had some business in Italy, so we spent a month there that summer. I had a massive crush on a boy who worked at a nearby café and spent the entire time trying to learn enough Italian to flirt with him." She sighed dramatically, though grinning. "Sadly, I wasn't his type."

Harry was amused. He would liked to have known fifteen-year-old Tonks. "Sorry it didn't work out."

She shrugged. "We had fun. He took me to a bunch of places tourists don't normally go. He was nice, and I'm sure he's made some lucky man very happy."

"Some lucky … oh! Really not his type."

"Indeed."

"Can you say anything else?"

"I can say 'fuck off' in five languages," she said, almost with a trace of pride.

Harry laughed. "Of course you can."

She waved her hands in a gesture of admission. "And some French," she added. "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?"

"What does that mean?"

She winked, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Figure it out and I'll let you answer the question. Now, andiamo."

As they walked along, he wondered where they were headed. Definitely not the Room of Requirement. He was about to ask when he remembered there were more pressing matters. "Tonks, I nearly forgot. About Malfoy …"

She didn't say anything when he finished, and he frowned when he saw her clench her fists. "It's so frustrating, Harry!"

"To not be able to do anything?"

"Exactly! He keeps dropping more and more hints that he's up to something, but I can't do anything with his words. If only we could _see_ the Dark Mark … bloody Dark Marks and their bloody concealment charms. Bloody laws. Bloody minors I can't question without consent."

He tugged at her elbow to slow her down. "I've been thinking about that. Tonks, what do you do all day, exactly?"

She stared at him blankly. "I patrol."

"As in, you simply walk around the castle in no discernible pattern?"

"Yes."

Harry paused. "What if it was discernible?"

She furrowed her brow. "Come again?"

"We know he's up to something somewhere in the castle – oh, damn." Harry's plan screeched to a halt. "Wait. No we don't."

"We don't?"

Harry sighed impatiently, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. "There are tunnels that lead out of the castle, ones I'm pretty sure Filch doesn't know about. I was about to say that if you followed Malfoy, you can find out where he's hiding and with whatever is inside the room, maybe you'd have enough to arrest him. But if he's leaving the castle …"

"Hmm." Tonks crossed her arms, drumming one finger on her chin. "Okay. Tell me where the tunnels are. I'll block them off and place a few traps just in case, and then I suppose I can follow him. About that, though …"

"Yeah?"

It was her turn to sigh. "It's one of the worst parts about this job. We have to let suspects go on long enough to get enough evidence for an arrest warrant, but at the same time we don't want anyone to get hurt. It's a very fine line, one that's often hard to see. If he cottons on, he'll stop, and then we're right where we started. You already told him both you and I are on his trail, and in this case he'll easily catch on if he sees me too often."

"So don't get caught," Harry said simply.

She chuckled dryly. "Fortunately, spying is my area of expertise. This is by no means foolproof, but it's better than standing around. Just don't get your hopes up."

Harry agreed, pleased. This was the first step they'd taken toward stopping Malfoy since Tonks was stationed in the castle. And speaking of steps, she had taken them up into the Astronomy Tower while he wasn't paying attention.

"What are we doing here?"

Tonks pushed open the door that led to the very top where the Astronomy classes where held, gesturing for him to proceed into the night. "A little bit of R and R, my friend."

"And what exactly is that?"

"Rest and relaxation. You've been working so hard, and you were so stressed over the trial. So no training tonight, just some fun. All work and no play makes Harry a dull boy, and I've never been able to stand anything lackluster."

"Do you find me dull?"

"I find you fascinating," she answered, playing with the zipper of her jacket.

Harry eyed Tonks as she knelt, shuffling through her ubiquitous bag. Though he greatly enjoyed dueling and learning new spells, their excursion into London had made him realize he was equally keen simply for the company of Tonks. She put him at ease in a way no one else did, and though he hadn't complained, she instinctively knew he would appreciate some, as she called it, R and R. It was a feeling that was simultaneously appealing and uncomfortable, and above all confusing.

"Right. So here's some snacks, pastries and the like, and I have some butterbeer as well. Want one?"

Harry pointed at the tall thermos she held in her other hand. "Depends. What's that?"

"My own special blend of coffee and hot chocolate." She unscrewed the cap and took a long sip. "Ah. Nectar of the gods. Want to try?"

Shrugging, Harry accepted the thermos and tilted it up. "Not bad," he said when he was finished. He had never been a coffee drinker, but the chocolate flavor was interesting. "Not bad at all."

"More than enough to share." She conjured a cup and poured some coffee into it, handing it to Harry.

He settled against the wall next to her bag, helping himself to an apple turnover, feeling decidedly content despite the cold. Tonks, never one to sit still, vaulted onto the battlements and walked back and forth. She waved her wand, sending a biscuit toward her, which she caught deftly in her mouth.

"So, still at odds with Ron?" she asked, swallowing.

Harry scowled. "Ron's too busy being jealous of things I can't control to pull his head out of his arse and have my back for once. I don't want to talk about Ron."

"Okay," Tonks said quietly, continuing to walk across the battlements.

Harry watched her, waiting for her natural clumsiness to make an appearance. "You're making me nervous, you know."

"Why?"

"You're going to fall."

Her scoff was audible. "I'm not _that_ clumsy, thank you very much. And if I did happen to fall, I would simply cast a cushioning charm before I landed."

Harry stood. "Cushioning charms are only so effective, so you would need an exceptionally powerful one to cover that distance. Not to mention, you would have to keep both your wand and your head while falling as well as be able to see the ground in order to cast it at the proper moment."

She stopped so quickly she swayed, and Harry feared his prediction was about to be realized. "Well, look who's been paying attention in Charms."

"I'm not just devilishly handsome," he teased. "I have brains, too. Now please get down."

He reached to help her, but she jumped backward. "If I fall, it's going to be your fault. C'mon, live a little. Carpe diem, Harry."

She said the oddest things, though not in the same manner as Luna. "Carpay what?"

"Carpe diem. Seize the fucking day." And, challenge dancing in her eyes, Tonks took another step backward off the tower and disappeared from sight.

"Tonks!" Heart in his throat, Harry rushed to the edge, grabbing at air in vain. Surely she had not just jumped off the Astronomy Tower. He leaned over the battlements, fingers clenching the rough stone.

Only to see Tonks hovering on a broom a few feet below, laughing hysterically.

Harry relaxed, pushing off the battlements until he felt the wall at his back, sinking to the ground with his knees in front of him. "You are mental! How did you get the broom to wait there?"

"Immobilized it right before I met you and then again when we arrived." She maneuvered to float above him, just out of his reach if he stood. "Did you really believe I jumped? Merlin's round ones, Harry. I might be crazy, but I'm not stupid."

Harry shook his head. Crazy was definitely the word for her. He climbed to his feet again, still curious. "So we're at the top of the Astronomy tower with snacks, drinks, and a broomstick. I'm still not sure where this is going."

"You once told me the best way to relax is on a broom. So, here you go." In a quick move, Tonks slid off the broomstick and flipped over, dangling from her hands. Harry poked her exposed stomach, and she dropped to the ground in an ungraceful sprawl, laughing.

When the broomstick lowered itself accordingly, hovering at waist height, Harry ran a hand over it and glanced at Tonks accusingly. "This is my Firebolt!"

"Yeah," she said nonchalantly. "Nicked it from the Gryffindor locker room. Don't worry, I didn't fly it up here, though I was very tempted. Would you have preferred a school broom?"

The idea of a midnight flight over the grounds of Hogwarts, calming despite the cold, was appealing. It was always easy for Harry to forget about fighting friends, hellish homework, egocentric enemies, and fanatical fangirls with the wind blowing through his hair. He mounted the Firebolt, turning to grin at Tonks. "What are you going to do?"

"I've a report in my bag I need to finish. Take your time, don't worry about me. But before you go: put a disillusionment charm on yourself."

It took two tries to get it to her standards, but once sufficiently hidden, Harry took off at full speed. From circling the highest turrets of the castle to running a hand in the frigid waters of the lake to a quick lap around the familiar stands of the Quidditch pitch, Harry forgot about anything weighing on his mind. He was, for a suspended moment in time, simply Harry, a teenage wizard.

Of course, all good things must come to an end, and as Harry relaxed, he began to fill with fatigue. Once his hands were practically frozen to the wood, he headed back to the Astronomy Tower, looking forward to his warm bed.

"Good?" Tonks asked as he dismounted, sipping coffee.

"It was nice." He snatched the thermos from her hand and took a long drink of the warm, fragrant liquid.

Once she gathered her things, they began their descent. Harry rested the broomstick on his shoulder; Tonks promised to return it to its rightful place without so much as a snapped twig.

"So do you often take boys up to the Astronomy Tower, or am I the first?" he asked teasingly.

She grinned. "You're not that special, Potter."

"Oh, really? Who've you taken up there, then?"

"Doesn't matter."

He failed to notice the edge in her voice. "Clearly there's someone. Tell me, who was the lucky bloke?"

"No one," she snapped. "Drop it, Harry, okay?"

Harry was taken aback, slowing to a near stop before shaking his head and hastily catching up with her. Talk about a slamming a door in his face. He'd never heard such a hard tone from the normally blithe Metamorphmagus, and they walked in complete silence for several minutes, Harry sneaking glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

"This was fun," he finally mumbled hesitantly as they walked down the last staircase.

Tonks smiled. Her cheer had returned as quickly as it had fled. "Yeah? Good. Next time we'll be back to me kicking your arse."

"Too bad you can't back up those words with actual results."

She laughed, loudly enough that he was sure Filch would come running. "Alright, mate, consider that challenge accep-"

Tonks tripped, upsetting her balance by missing a step. Dropping his broomstick with a clatter, Harry automatically reached out to steady her even as she grabbed a handful of his shirt in an attempt to stop herself. The unexpected weight threatened to send him sprawling as well, but Harry caught himself, and Tonks by extension, on the wall behind her.

And then Harry looked down, and Tonks was gazing at him, trapped between him and the wall, still clenching his shirt, an unreadable expression on her face. They were far too close. Some distant part of Harry's mind told him he should move, but he didn't. Instead his eyes traveled from messy pink hair to violet eyes, strangely sad instead of the sparkle they usually carried, continuing down a tanned face to pale lips, slightly parted. Time stopped when they locked gazes again. Harry's mouth was unbearably dry. He unconsciously flicked his tongue against his lips to moisten them, and Tonks sucked in her breath.

"You should be under the invisibility cloak," she said quickly, slipping past him and picking up his broomstick. "Hate for you to get in trouble again."

Harry pulled the cloak over his body, suddenly glad to hide his face. Something had shifted, but he wasn't sure what. A sense of disappointment rose in him and was quickly squashed.

All in all, Harry had never been so relieved to reach the entrance to his common room. Then he stiffened as he made out a girl standing by the portrait. Arms crossed. Toes tapping. Lips thinned. Eyes narrowed. Hair bushy.

"Wotcher, Hermione," was Tonks's casual greeting. "What are you doing out so late?"

"Wondering the same about you," Hermione replied succinctly. "Or more correctly, about Harry."

"You're not my keeper, Hermione," said Harry. "That's Ron."

That earned a short chuckle and a mumble of "lame" from Tonks, but Hermione didn't appear amused. "I knew you were up to something. Why are you two wandering the castle in the middle of the night? Is this something to do with Malfoy?"

Her imperious tone peeved Harry. "It's none of your business what I'm doing. My homework is always done, I don't get in trouble, and if you're concerned about my safety for some reason, I'm with Tonks. Don't worry about me." Even though he didn't wish to quarrel with this friend, too, Harry couldn't stand when Hermione acted motherly.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Tonks leaned in and beat her to it, eyes dancing with mischief. "Hermione, it's time we let you in on some privileged information. Harry and I are –" Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. "– secret lovers. I've been making a man of him in every broom closet from the Entrance Hall to the Astronomy Tower."

"Have you, now?"

"Oh, yes."

"And would this have anything to do with how Harry stopped having problems with nonverbal incantations almost overnight?"

Tonks shrugged. "Wouldn't know." Then she grinned wickedly. "But personally I think he's just as good with his mouth open as closed."

Harry rolled his eyes, though his cheeks went slightly warm at the implication. "Really, Tonks? You'll give mini-Molly over here a heart attack, and I doubt either of us has the necessary medical knowledge to deal with that." He had the satisfaction of seeing Hermione flush and glare at the comparison.

"I suppose you're right, and I'm sure you need your rest after tonight." Tonks winked and turned to saunter away. "Goodnight, Hermione. Goodnight, secret lover."

Harry grinned at her retreating form before climbing through the portrait hole, Hermione on his heels. In the common room he rounded on her before she began anew. "Look, I'm sorry for calling you a Mrs. Weasley. But you have no right to demand to know what I do at all times."

Hermione began to speak, then paused, taking a deep breath. "You're right, I'm sorry. I just couldn't –"

"Help yourself, I know," Harry finished with a smile. "It's part of being you, it's why we love you. And since you really want to know, Tonks is training me to fight Voldemort."

A very long silence. And then, a very surprising response. "That's actually a very good idea," she said thoughtfully. "An extension of the purpose of the DA, if you will. But – and I mean no offense to Tonks, I'm sure she's very good – shouldn't Dumbledore be doing that?"

"Yes, he should," Harry answered frankly. "But he's … well, I told you about the memories. And I don't know what the hell he's off doing now. Maybe he's trying to help me in his own way, but I'm not going to sit around in the meantime. I'm going to face Voldemort someday, and I want to be ready."

"Harry," Hermione began hesitantly. "Have you ever thought that maybe it doesn't have to be you? I mean, the prophecy, it's just words."

"It does have to be me," he replied firmly, leaning on his hands against the back of an armchair as she stood in front of it. "Think about it. My parents, Sirius, Cedric, Neville's parents, Mrs. Weasley's brothers – it all comes back to him. I _want_ to be the one to face him. At any rate he won't stop until he kills me, and he doesn't care who gets hurt on the way."

Hermione's face displayed about a dozen emotions, and her voice was very soft. "Are you scared, Harry?"

"Bloody terrified," he admitted. She flew at him, squeezing him so tightly he could barely breathe, and he patted her back in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

"You'll be fine, I'm sure of it," she said when she released him. _Is she trying to convince me or herself?_ "Tonks is an Auror, even if she is new. It's her job, after all. And I know that whatever Professor Dumbledore is doing is to help you. You'll be fine. You'll defeat him. That's what this is all about, isn't it? Defeating him?"

_Funny that no one ever says 'kill.'_ Harry nodded slowly, wanting to be completely honest about his chances but wishing to avoid hurting his friend at the same time. "Yeah, that's the plan. And stopping him from hurting others to get to me."

Hermione moved to hug him again, clearly under strong emotions though thankfully she wasn't crying, but their arms had barely encircled each other when a throat cleared. Pulling apart, both looked up at the boys' staircase.

Ron's face was a thundercloud. "Sorry," he said pointedly. "I heard a noise."

"We were just talking," Hermione told him in a guarded tone.

"Yeah, I can see that," replied Ron nastily. "I'll just let you go back to your 'talking.'"

"Ron, it's not –" But he was gone.

Harry ran a weary hand through his messy hair. Despite being angry with Ron, he missed him, and he knew this would just make things worse.

"We should probably get to bed," Hermione offered quietly.

"Yeah."

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"You know you always have me, right?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, I do. Thanks, Hermione. Hey, wait!" She turned with a questioning look. "I never finished telling you about Malfoy."

Hermione paused, biting her lip, then sank onto the sofa in front of the fireplace. "Go ahead."

When he finished, he eagerly leaned forward in his chair. "Don't you see, Hermione? It's not just talk. He admitted he's up to something, and Crabbe and Goyle are helping. All we have to do is find the room."

To Harry's great relief, she began nodding slowly. "Harry, I think I was wrong."

"What?" he said with exaggerated astonishment. "Did Hermione Granger actually just admit she was wrong about something?"

"Yes, and it won't happen again, so pay attention," she teased before turning somber. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just couldn't believe he would join them and be tasked with a mission, but it's really looking serious, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Tonks says we need some actual proof before she can arrest or question him, so she's trying to tail him to find out where this room is."

Hermione frowned. "Why don't you just use the Marauder's Map?"

His mouth fell open. "I can't believe I forgot about that. You are brilliant, Hermione."

"Just pointing out the obvious," she replied with a pleased smile as she stood, masking a yawn. "Sorry, but I really am quite tired."

"Bed, then. Goodnight."

"Goodnight. Oh, Harry, one more thing." He turned. "Where do you and Tonks do whatever you do?"

"She told you. Broom closets." Harry winked, then laughed at Hermione's wry expression. "The Room of Requirement, why?"

"You're wearing your jacket."

He looked at himself. He'd almost forgotten their little outing. "Oh. Well, tonight was … a bit of a break. A field trip, of sorts. Because sometimes, Hermione, you just have to seize the day. Carpe diem, you know."

"Carpe diem?" she repeated, surprised. "Harry, when did you learn Latin? Harry?"

He grinned to himself as he climbed the steps to his room, ignoring her calls. Not answering would drive her barmy.


	8. Missing

**Missing**

Harry strode back and forth in the Gryffindor locker room, facing his Quidditch team. "We've been training two months for this. We know their players, we know their moves, we know what to do. Slytherin is going down."

The three chasers were in the middle. "Katie, Demelza, and Ginny: remember your formations. Share the Quaffle equally but don't fall into a routine; I don't want you to become predictable." The girls grinned confidently.

He moved on to Jimmy and Ritchie, both of whom were looking peaky. "Mark your bludger from the start and stay on it. Don't let their beaters touch them." They nodded, still nervous.

Harry forced himself to swallow his pride and speak to Ron like any other player, ignoring their falling out. Nevertheless, he couldn't quite look him in the eye, focusing instead on a spot over his head. "Ron, just play like you did in the final last year and we'll be fine. If you weren't good enough to play, you wouldn't be on the team. Forget the bludgers and the other players and focus on the Quaffle. And try to remember not to drift." Ron lifted his head, and for a moment Harry thought he would speak, but after a second he simply jerked his head in a nod.

Stifling a jab of frustration, Harry moved to the door, hearing his team assemble behind him. "If anyone needs to be sick, do it now," he called over his shoulder, but no one moved. Harry thought about taking his own advice; captaining a team was much different than just playing, and his stomach was doing a tango. Shaking his head to regain his confidence, he pushed open the door, took a few steps to mount his broom, and kicked off hard.

As always, his nerves dispelled as he shot through the air. He led them for a lap around the field as Harry's Hufflepuff classmate and former DA member Zacharias Smith, the new commentator, introduced them. After that each player headed for his or her spot as Slytherin made their entrance. Harry flew high above the rest, waiting for Madam Hooch to throw the Quaffle.

He spotted Hermione and Parvati waving from the Gryffindor stands and returned the greeting. As he made his way around the pitch a second time, he glanced at the staff section, looking for Tonks. She had promised to be there, cheering him on, but no head of brightly colored hair was to be found. He glanced back at Hermione, wondering if the Auror had chosen to sit there and he had missed her, but she wasn't there, either. Harry felt a strange sense of disappointment at her absence, but he mentally waved it away as he resumed his starting spot. He needed a clear head.

The Slytherin seeker took his spot opposite Harry, and he glanced at the silver-blond head of Draco Malfoy. Except it wasn't. Instead he faced the dark-haired reserve seeker, whom Harry dimly thought to be something like Harley or Harper or Harden. His name didn't matter. What mattered was that it wasn't Malfoy.

"Where's Malfoy?" Harry called bluntly.

The other boy shot him an annoyed look. "I don't know. He quit the team."

Harry was so stunned by this he nearly missed the beginning of the match. Draco Malfoy loved to play Quidditch, and he particularly loved playing opposite Harry in hopes of beating him. Katie caught the Quaffle and sped down the pitch, chased by all three Slytherin chasers. Harry quickly glanced at the Slytherin stands but couldn't find Malfoy. Furious at missing an opportunity to catch him in the act, Harry shook his head. Nothing for it but to concentrate on the match.

Katie scored, and now the Quaffle was in Slytherin possession. Harry drifted high above the other players, wishing for once the derogative term 'four-eyes' was literal, as he was trying to keep an eye on the progress of the match, each of his players, and the occasional stray bludger while searching for the Snitch all at the same time. He caught a glimpse of gold and was speeding toward the Hufflepuff stands when a collective groan rose from the crowd. Distracted, Harry lost sight of the Snitch and turned around. Ron's head hung; he had just missed his first shot at a save.

Slytherin struck up a chorus of "Weasley Is Our King", and Harry swore. Ron's confidence was as shaky in Quidditch as anything else. True to form, Ron missed the next five Slytherin goals, and though both Katie and Ginny scored, Harry knew he needed to stop the streak or catch the Snitch soon. Harper (which Harry had decided was his name) was checking him fairly closely, so Harry decided to buy some time.

He threw his Firebolt into a dive, heading straight for the Slytherin keeper, who grew increasingly startled. Just before he reached the left-hand hoop, he pulled away and shot up into the air, taking the time to search the pitch uninterrupted while Harper, whose broom and reflexes were slower, recovered from the dive. He didn't see the Snitch, but he did catch a Slytherin chaser crash into Demelza in an attempt to dislodge the Quaffle from her grasp, a clear example of blatching. Dropping the Quaffle into another chaser's waiting arms, Demelza nearly fell off her broom, and Harry was furious. Madam Hooch's whistle stopped him from committing a foul himself.

"Foul to Gryffindor!" she called. "Deliberate collision with the Gryffindor chaser!"

"Time-out!" Harry shouted, flying toward her. She allowed the time-out, and Harry's team gathered around Ron at the end of the pitch.

"Demelza, are you okay?"

She grimaced and rubbed her arm. "Yeah, I'm fine. Give the foul to someone else, though. My shoulder hurts."

"Katie, you take it," Harry decided. "What's the score? I can't hear up there."

"40-70, Slytherin," Ginny said darkly, shooting Ron a look.

"We'll be fine," Harry said, quelling her with a look of his own. "Jimmy, Ritchie, you're doing great. I haven't seen a bludger all day. Alright, let's go win this." He waited for the other players to drift away before he maneuvered closer to Ron. "Ron, don't listen to that stupid song. It's a few missed saves. Don't worry about it."

"I'm pathetic," Ron mumbled.

Harry restrained from rolling his eyes impatiently. "You won the Cup last year. Remember? That was you. Find that Ron."

Ginny had hung around while they were talking. "I was the one who caught the Snitch last year," she muttered to Harry. "I think I was the one who won."

Harry stared at her. "Come off it, Ginny. He just needs some confidence."

He flew off, annoyed at both Weasleys on his team. One with too much confidence, the other with not enough. Why couldn't they share?

Katie easily scored for the foul, and when play resumed Ginny immediately seized the Quaffle and scored again within a few minutes. Harry crisscrossed the pitch searching for the Snitch, keeping an eye on Harper in case he spotted it before Harry. When a great cheer rose from the Slytherin stands, he looked down.

One of the green chasers hurtled down the pitch, Quaffle in possession and all Gryffindor chasers far behind. Ron waited in front of the goal posts, eyes locked onto his opponent. At the last moment, the chaser threw to the right, and Harry tensed. Ron dove, and Harry held his breath. _Just a little bit farther, only a few more inches, catch it, Ron,_ he urged. It was too far, Ron was going to miss, his arms weren't long enough, he wasn't going to catch it.

And then, suddenly, he did. The Quaffle was in his hands, and he raised them in triumph before tossing it to Demelza.

As Harry had predicted, one save was all Ron needed. He and the three girls ruled the pitch, and as long as Harry caught the Snitch, the game was in the bag. He threw his search into overdrive, eyes roving constantly, darting toward any flash of light. Despite the cool November air, the sun was shining, and sweat dripped down Harry's back as the match went on.

Harry's head snapped around. Was that a hint of gold behind Ritchie? It was, and Harry threw himself forward on the Firebolt, abandoning any pretense of a feint. In the back of his mind he heard the crowd roar, heard Smith's commentary on the possibly-seen Snitch, heard Harper behind him as he chased his fellow seeker. But Harry focused on one thing and one thing only: the Snitch.

He blew past Ritchie and underneath a Slytherin chaser, tore around the Ravenclaw stands, and threw himself into a dive in the middle of the pitch. A bludger appeared out of nowhere, and Harry quickly rolled to narrowly avoid it. He heard a cry of pain behind him and suspected Harper hadn't been so lucky, but he was past caring. Almost within reach … and his hand closed around the tiny gold ball, wings beating fruitlessly against his palm. He had caught the Snitch, and Gryffindor won, 220-80.

His teammates rushed him as he descended to the ground, all hugging and slapping hands.

"Party in the common room!" Seamus, who was running onto the pitch with the rest of the Gryffindors, shouted.

Harry felt a pair of arms around his neck. "That was fantastic, Harry!" Parvati exclaimed.

He grinned as she kissed his cheek. "Thanks." Harry looked around. "Where's Hermione?"

Parvati loosened her grip. "Oh, she left at the beginning of the match. I don't know why. She took Neville with her." She gasped. "Do you think something is going on between them?"

"No, I don't," Harry said definitively. Something was going on, but it wasn't between Hermione and Neville. He'd bet his Firebolt that she had noticed Malfoy's absence and, being somewhat smarter than Harry, taken Neville for backup. He needed to find her as quickly as possible.

"Coming to the party?" Parvati asked.

"As soon as I shower."

Harry glanced at the staff stands one last time. He spotted McGonagall, who gave him a nod of approval, and Snape, glowering, but still no Tonks. Perhaps she, too, had taken the opportunity to seek out Malfoy.

In the locker rooms, Harry congratulated his tired but exhilarated team before they separated for their showers. He lingered until Ron, Ritchie, and Jimmy had parted and walked back to the castle by himself, lost in his thoughts.

"Harry!"

Hermione, Neville, and Parvati were waiting outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. "What's going on? Why aren't you inside?"

Hermione made a disgruntled noise. "It was a bit, er, _busy_."

"She means that Ron and Lavender are making out in the middle of the common room," Neville supplied helpfully.

"They are?" Parvati squealed. "Finally! I have to see this." She held out her hand. "Coming, Harry?"

"In a minute," he told her. "I want to talk to Hermione about something."

"Oh. Okay. I'll save you a butterbeer," she said, walking away slowly.

As soon as the Fat Lady swung shut, Harry looked at his two friends expectantly. "Why did you leave the match?"

"When I saw that Malfoy wasn't playing, I had a hunch," Hermione explained. "I asked Neville to come with me because I didn't want to go alone."

"That's a good idea," Harry said firmly. He didn't want Death Eaters to hurt any more of his friends. "I guess you know everything, Neville?"

"That Malfoy is a Death Eater and he's up to something," Neville said. "But we couldn't find him anywhere in the castle."

"Did you –"

"Yes, I had Neville take the Marauder's Map from your trunk," Hermione interrupted. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, it's fine." Though he didn't mind her using it, Harry made a mental note to find a better way to lock up his belongings. Broom or map, apparently anyone could get at his things, and that could be dangerous. "Are you sure you didn't just miss him?"

Hermione shook her head. "Everyone else was at the match, Harry. He wasn't in the castle. Do you think he took one of the tunnels?"

"No, Tonks assured me they were inaccessible." Harry paced back and forth with frustration. They were so close.

"What about leaving the castle another way, apparition or the Floo Network?" Neville suggested.

"You can't apparate in Hogwarts," Hermione said with a touch of exasperation. "The Floo Network has been shut off, and there are enchantments on the gates. No student can leave the castle."

The three stood silently for a moment, stumped. How could Malfoy be in the castle yet not be on the map? Finally Harry ran a hand over his hair. "We must have missed something. Thanks anyway."

"We'll catch him, Harry," Neville said confidently. "I'm going to get some food before McLaggen eats it all. Oh by the way, congratulations on winning."

"Thanks, Nev," Harry said. When Hermione didn't follow, he waited until Neville disappeared inside the portrait hole. "Alright, Hermione?"

"Fine. I just don't have any urge to see Ron and Lavender. I don't know what's more disgusting, Harry: the two of them kissing right in the middle of the room, or everyone else milling around like it's nothing."

"Does it bother you, Ron and Lavender?" Harry asked.

She took a long moment to respond. "Some, but not as much as I thought it would. I mean, I did think Ron fancied me, but like I said, I'm more bothered by having it shoved in my face." She glanced at Harry slyly. "At least you and Parvati have the decency to disappear when you want to snog. Speaking of which, she's waiting for you, probably to do just that."

Harry ducked his head. "She won't miss me. Want me to stay with you?"

Hermione didn't answer; instead, she studied him. "Is everything okay between you and Parvati?"

"Well … I didn't know that asking her to Hogsmeade meant she was my girlfriend. I thought we would have a date and see where it went from there."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure you'll have fun in Hogsmeade," Hermione said awkwardly. "Come on, let's go inside. If the Ron show is still on, I'm going to my room."

"Thanks for looking for Malfoy, Hermione."

"It was worth a shot. Here's the Marauder's Map." She handed him the folded parchment. "I hope you don't mind that I told Neville."

"It's fine. Neville will be …"

"Discreet," she finished, and he nodded.

"Exactly. One more brain won't hurt."

Fortunately Ron and Lavender had disappeared to a more private setting, and Harry saw Hermione sit next to Demelza before Parvati showed up and fulfilled Hermione's prediction.

**oOo**

When Harry sat at the Gryffindor table at breakfast Monday morning, he immediately noticed that something was off. Nearly every single girl was gazing up at the staff table like there was some sort of veela that affected females. He quickly turned to look as well, hoping that perhaps it was Tonks sporting some new look, but she wasn't the Auror he recognized.

It was Cooper.

"Who is that?" Lavender sighed, sitting next to a visibly put-out Ron. On her other side, Parvati, too, was staring at Cooper, but to her credit she blushed and lowered her head when she spotted Harry. Honestly, it didn't really bother him.

"A Greek god." For once Romilda Vane didn't even notice Harry.

Fay Dunbar leaned on one hand, wearing a dreamy smile. "Does it matter who he is? I just hope he stays forever."

"I know him," Harry said. About a dozen heads swiveled as one to face him, and he leaned backward from their intense stares. "He's an Auror."

"Maybe he's taking over for the other one," Demelza said excitedly.

"Oh, I hope so." Vicky Frobisher echoed Lavender's sigh.

"Why? What's wrong with Tonks?" Harry demanded.

"She doesn't look like _that_," Romilda retorted. This was worse than Lockhart. Harry shared a disgusted look with Ron before remembering they weren't speaking.

"She probably could if she wanted to," remarked Hermione, and Harry grinned.

Next to her Seamus shook his head. "Damn shame, if she's gone. She is one fine bird." Dean muttered an agreement that he tried to disguise as a cough when Ginny glared and elbowed him. Seamus laughed and continued. "If that's how they make Aurors, I might have to sign up, eh, Harry?"

"Join the club," Fay said fervently.

Harry had had enough. The girls' ogling and Seamus's leering was ruining his appetite. He stood up and grabbed a handful of toast, shouldering his bag. "Let's go, Hermione."

After they left the Great Hall Harry heard his name being called, and when he turned, it was Cooper himself, thankfully not followed by a posse of teenage girls.

"Hello, Harry," he said with a friendly smile. "How are you?"

"Good." Harry shook his hand, then nodded his head at Hermione. "Coop, this is my friend Hermione."

"Hermione. That's an interesting name."

Harry noticed Hermione's cheeks color, and he made a mental note to take the piss later. Right now he had questions. "Why are you here? Where's Tonks? Is she okay?"

"One at a time." Cooper shook his hair out of his face, still wearing an easy smile. "She got called away, but she'll be back in a day or two. She was very adamant that someone covered for her. Jason wanted the spot, but I got the call, so here I am. Never fear, you're in good hands."

Why hadn't she told him she was going away? "Of course. Well, we have DADA, so we should go."

"Have fun. Good to see you, Harry."

"Yeah, you, too."

"Nice to meet you, Hermione." He gave her a charming smile and walked away.

"You, too," she said automatically, watching him leave with a small smile.

Once Cooper was out of earshot, Harry glanced at Hermione, eyebrows raised with a knowing expression. She caught his glance and huffed, leading the way to class while thoroughly ignoring his sniggers. They were the first ones to arrive and took seats next to each other.

"So, he works with Tonks?" Hermione asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah, he's her partner. And her best mate, she says."

"He seems nice."

Harry grinned. "Oh, he does, does he? Nice … looking?"

"Yes, he's good-looking, but that's not what I meant," she replied calmly. "I am a girl, I notice cute boys, but unlike some people I can acknowledge that someone is attractive without making a fool of myself."

Disappointed by his failure to get a rise out of her, Harry moved on. "He's really nice. He helped with my trial. So what do you think Tonks is doing?"

"Since she was pulled off her normal post, I assume it's something they specifically needed her to do with her Metamorphmagus abilities."

Snape's arrival prevented anymore conversation, and though still curious, Harry put it out of his mind while taking notes on the Imperius Curse. As a Death Eater disguised as Mad-Eye Moody had put it on him multiple times in class during Harry's fourth year, he had personal experience with the matter, but he found the ways to determine if someone was Imperiused very interesting, even when delivered by Snape.

In Potions Slughorn assigned them an Everlasting Elixir, and Harry bent over his modified copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_, eager to see what additions the Half-Blood Prince had made. Though he was as yet unable to discover who the former owner was, the modifications were, without exception, always helpful in producing a near-perfect potion. Slughorn regularly praised Harry, claiming he had inherited his mother's abilities, and Harry only felt a tiny hint of discomfort.

"Slow turns, MacMillan, slow turns," Slughorn instructed as he made his way around the classroom, checking on their progress. "Nott, how many castor beans did you put in? … Er, keep working, Weasley … excellent, Miss Granger."

Harry bent his head closer to his textbook, trying to decipher the cramped handwriting.

"Good heavens, Potter!" Slughorn exclaimed, and Harry jumped, unaware the teacher had been peering over his shoulder. "What in the name of Merlin have you done to your book?"

"I, uh, I, erm," Harry stuttered as Slughorn picked up the book, rifling through the pages with interest.

"Harry, m'boy, did you come up with these changes? Daring and more than a little foolish, but quite amazing, I must say, even for Lily Evans's boy."

Seeing a way out, Harry began to respond, but at the last second he caught Hermione's eye, and his conscience pricked. "No, Professor," he admitted with a heavy sigh. "That's the book I took from your cupboard at the start of term. It was already like that. I don't know who did it."

The entire class was watching. Slughorn flipped a few more pages before closing it with a snap. "Very well. I'm going to have to confiscate this. It should prove to be a most interesting read. You can order a new textbook from Flourish and Blotts and look off Miss Granger's in the meantime."

And that was that. Relieved to not receive any sort of punishment, Harry shrugged and followed the directions in Hermione's text. He was going to miss that book.

**oOo**

On Wednesday at dinner Harry did his now-automatic check of the staff table. Still no Tonks, just a frowning Cooper talking seriously to Professor McGonagall. In fact, Harry mused as he chewed his shepherd's pie, Cooper actually looked worried.

To his right Parvati nudged him. "You look like you're the one with the crush, Harry," she teased.

He smiled. "Not quite. I was just wondering …" Sudden inspiration. "If he could help me with Snape's essay on the Imperius Curse. He's an Auror, he'd be a good source, right?" As if on cue, Cooper rose, and Harry quickly did the same, emptying his goblet of pumpkin juice so quickly he sloshed some on the table. "Sorry. I'll see you back at the common room."

"Handy coincidence to know all the Aurors stationed here," he heard Dean mutter. Neville said something hotly in response, but Harry couldn't make it out.

He waited until they were outside the Great Hall before approaching the tall Auror. "Coop?"

He turned around with an easy smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hey, Harry. What's up?"

"Everything alright?" Harry asked bluntly. No point in beating around the bush, and Cooper seemed like the type of person to prefer honesty. "You look upset. Is it Tonks?"

The older man regarded him for a long moment, and Harry knew he was debating how much to reveal. "She's fine, I'm sure," he finally began, and Harry's stomach sank at his phrasing. "But she was supposed to return today, and she hasn't shown."

"Why aren't you going after her?" Harry demanded.

Cooper raised a finger. "It's not as bad as it sounds. Although she was expected to be back today, it wasn't a command. This was the estimated length of time it would take for her to complete her mission. The specific order parameters were for her to exercise her best judgment."

"Is there a way for you to check on her?"

He shook his head. "Not without putting her in more danger. The last commo we received, late Monday night, said that she was going dark."

"What?"

"It means she cut off all communication. She's undercover; sometimes it's too dangerous for her to check in." Cooper patted him on the shoulder. "She'll be fine. She's very good at what she does. She can take care of herself.

He knew that very well, but still … "You're worried," Harry stated.

Cooper brushed back some shaggy hair from his face. "Of course. She's my partner. I care about Tonks. But neither of us should be concerned. If she hasn't made contact in a few days, we'll say hell to the mission and charge in with wands ablaze. Alex had a contingency plan in place before she ever left on Friday. This is what we do, Harry. Trust me."

Not terribly reassured, Harry forced a smile anyway. "Thanks, Coop. "

"Anytime. So, how are your classes?"

"Fine, I guess. Hard. Say, are you busy right now?" Harry asked.

"Free as a bird. Tonks wasn't kidding when she said this post was boring. What do you need?"

"What do you know about recognizing the Imperius Curse?"

Half an hour later, Harry pushed away from the desk in Tonks's room in the staff quarters and stretched. Cooper had suggested his temporary quarters in place of the library, as he was threatening to take over Harry's position as the most stalked person in the castle. As it turned out, he was a mine of information on Unforgivables, and not only did Harry have several more inches than Snape had asked for, he had another half foot of notes for future essays.

"Do they teach you all this in Auror training?" he asked, impressed.

Cooper nodded. "Yes, particularly the Cruciatus and the Imperius. Not much you can do about the Killing Curse, but we discuss the first two in length during our SERE training."

"What's that?"

"Survive, evade, resist, and escape. Basically what to do if we're captured. It's one of the roughest parts of our training."

"Can Aurors use Unforgivables?"

"No, it's just as illegal for me as you. For the time being, anyway. Back during You-Know-Who's first rise to power, they were authorized to use the Killing Curse, and some of the veterans are predicting the same legislation is coming. Things are getting worse, and Scrimgeour .. .well, he's no Fudge. Personally I think all it will take is something big to happen. I almost thought they'd allow it when Amelia Bones was murdered; we don't take kindly to losing one of our own."

Harry nodded, gathering his things in his bag. "Makes sense. Have to fight fire with fire."

"Do you think so?" Cooper asked lightly.

"I don't think we can win with stunners while they're throwing Killing Curses," Harry replied honestly.

He gave Harry a wry grin. "Easier to say when it's not you."

_How little you know,_ Harry thought darkly, but he just smiled politely. "Thanks for this. I might actually earn an O from Snape, though I'm sure he'll find some reason to fail me anyway."

Cooper chucked dryly. "Good luck."

Harry glanced around the room as he headed for the door. It felt like an invasion of privacy, being in Tonks's room without her knowledge, particularly when it was still covered with her belongings. Trainers and boots were scattered on the floor, her training jacket hung on the back of a chair, and photographs were stuck all around the frame of a mirror. He paused as he passed, a few catching his eye.

One showed Tonks in a rather skimpy pink bikini (Harry lingered on that a little too long) and Cooper in a pair of long orange swim shorts, both waving at the camera before doing simultaneous back flips into a pool. Another was of Tonks bundled up on the side of a snowy mountain, her arm around an unfamiliar man.

"Her cousin Adam," Cooper said over Harry's shoulder. "On her father's side. A Muggle."

"You know her Muggle family?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Just a few. I dated one of her cousins very briefly a few years ago."

"Oh." Harry was rather cheered by this. "Well, thanks again. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

"No problem. See you later. Oh, and Harry?" Cooper smiled reassuringly. "She's fine. I promise."

**oOo**

Before heading to the common room to meet Parvati for their date to Hogsmeade on Saturday, Harry ran a quick eye over the Marauder's Map. He first spotted Crabbe and Goyle in the Entrance Hall, presumably on their way to Hogsmeade themselves, and his pulse quickened when he realized Malfoy wasn't accompanying them. Perhaps he was taking advantage of the mostly empty castle again. However, a minute or so of scanning showed Malfoy with Professor McGonagall in her office. They didn't seem to be going anywhere, and since Malfoy's lookouts had left, Harry gave up with a stab of annoyance. How was he supposed to catch him if he never went to that mysterious room?

As he had all week, Harry searched the map again, this time for Tonks, but she was still nowhere to be found. He folded it up angrily. Where was she, and why hadn't she told him she was leaving? Harry went downstairs with a ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

"Finally!" Parvati exclaimed impatiently. "Everyone else is gone."

"Sorry. Let's go."

After a very thorough search by Filch with a Secrecy Sensor (because apparently sneaking forbidden items _out_ of the castle was undesirable), they set off on the long walk.

"Where do you want to go?" Parvati asked brightly, entwining her fingers with Harry's.

"I don't know," he said absently, mind swirling with thoughts of an absent Auror and a suspicious Slytherin.

"What about Madam Puddifoot's?"

"Yeah, sure – wait. No, definitely not."

"Why not?'

"I went there last year with Cho. It was horrible." Parvati's face darkened, and Harry screwed up his face. Bad move. He tugged her to a stop. "Wait, Parvati. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Bringing up an ex-girlfriend isn't exactly a good start to a date, is it?"

"No, not really," she said candidly, though he spotted a glimmer of a smile.

"Honestly, I'm pants at these type of things," he admitted.

"It's not like I have much experience either, Harry," she said shyly. "What would you do if you were with Ro-, er, Hermione?"

"Um, well, it's cold, so we'd probably get a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. So. Parvati, do you want to get a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks?"

She laughed at his clumsy delivery. "I'd like that."

They settled into a mostly easy conversation for the rest of the walk, only occasionally lapsing into awkward silence before bursting out something random for the sake of speaking. He was pleased when Parvati thought his idea of becoming an Auror was "really cool." She was, rather to his dismay, just as enamored with Divination as she had been when they started the subject in third year, wishing to follow up on it after Hogwarts.

"But my parents aren't very keen on the idea," she said as they trudged down High Street, faces bent against the wind. "They think I should be a Healer, and it's hard to stand up to them. They're rather strict."

"Sometimes you have to. They didn't want you and Padma to return to school this year, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, but we convinced them it would be safe. I mean, Dumbledore is here."

"What about Padma? What does she want to do?"

Parvati furrowed her brow thoughtfully. "She hasn't decided. She really likes Transfiguration, so probably something with that. She's even less likely to go against Mum and Dad than I am."

When they reached the Three Broomsticks, it was packed; clearly the harsh weather was keeping people indoors. After Harry paid for two warm tankards of foaming butterbeer, they looked around for any open seat. At first he thought there were none to be found, but finally he spotted two next to Dean, Ginny, and an uncomfortable-looking Hermione. He started to say something, but remembering his ill-fated date with Cho, he hesitated.

Parvati followed his gaze. "I suppose we'll sit there, shall we?" she said with a laugh that seemed forced.

Relieved, Harry followed her, trying not to spill his drink as he slipped through the throng of students.

Hermione looked as relieved as him, possibly because Dean and Ginny were rather wrapped up in each other. "Hi, Harry. Hi, Parvati."

"Hey," Harry greeted them.

"Nasty weather for a Hogsmeade visit, isn't it?" Ginny asked, leaning into the arm Dean slung around her shoulders.

Harry felt Parvati's eyes on him. He tightened his hands around the warm mug. "Yeah. Have either of you seen Tonks?"

"Not since last week," Ginny answered while Hermione shook her head. "Why?"

He shrugged casually. "Just curious, thought she might be here."

"Do you reckon she knows where Dumbledore goes?"

"Maybe," Harry said vaguely. She didn't, actually; in fact she had asked him if he knew.

Parvati chimed in, "Strange, isn't it, him being gone all the time?"

"But he's Dumbledore," said Dean. "Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, so on and so forth. I bet he has a thousand people wanting his advice, especially these days."

Harry didn't particularly think that was the case for his absence, but he let the conversation go on without interruption, sipping his butterbeer and trying to think of what to do next. It was too cold to visit the Shrieking Shack, and Madam Puddifoot's was out of the question, but he supposed Zonko's or Honeydukes would work. There was also Tomes and Scrolls, though he didn't think Parvati was a big reader.

"Do you want to go somewhere else, Harry?" Parvati asked when she noticed he had finished his butterbeer.

"Sure. How about Zonko's?"

She wrinkled her nose. "It's kind of loud, isn't it? What about Gladrags?"

"I don't really need any clothes. Honeydukes?"

She smiled. "Sounds good."

Harry went to say his goodbyes to Ginny and Dean, but they were whispering to each other quietly, lost in their own world. "Want to come with, Hermione?"

"No, I'm going to get a new quill," she replied with a hard look that he failed to interpret.

Once outside, they parted ways with Hermione and went to the sweetshop, which was nearly as crowded as the Three Broomsticks. They had fun imagining the customers for some of the more exotic and sometimes lurid candies, and Harry bought her a box of Charm Choc. He grinned on the way out as they passed the exploding bonbons, resisting a strong urge to buy some.

Outdoors once again, Harry struggled to think of something else to do. It was still early, and he didn't suppose she was ready to return to the castle. However, Parvati beat him to it, pulling him into a nearby alleyway out of the wind.

"Harry, I think we need to talk," she began. He gave her his full attention, and she took a deep breath. "I don't think this is working out."

"You don't?"

"No, and I don't think you do, either."

"I like you, Parvati," he protested.

"Yes, but I don't think you like me enough. Don't you think there's something missing? When we're with other people or we're just talking, you're fine. But when it comes to the couple stuff, like holding hands or kissing or being alone, you get this panicked look on your face. It just doesn't feel right."

Harry was at a loss for words. He couldn't deny what she said, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings. _A bit late for that._ "You're a really nice girl."

She smiled forlornly. "Thank you, and you're a great guy. I like you a lot, and I'm glad you gave it a go."

Harry was swept with a strange combination of sadness and relief. "I know this is really cliché, but can we still be friends?"

"Of course," she replied, though her smile wavered.

"I'm really sorry," he blurted out.

"Me, too, Harry." And with that, she leaned up, softly kissed his cheek, and started to walk away. After a few steps she turned around. "Does she know?"

He frowned in confusion. "What?"

"The other girl. Does she know you like her?"

"Parvati, I swear, there's no one else. I would never –"

"I know you wouldn't. I'm not accusing you of being with another girl, but I know there's been someone else on your mind. I can tell." She bit her lip. "At least do me the favor of being honest."

Harry stared uncomprehendingly at his now ex-girlfriend, his mind in turmoil. He wasn't interested in anyone else. Was he? The only one on his mind was – _oh_. Harry took a deep breath as he was forced to come to a startling revelation. It was time to admit the truth, not only to her but to himself. "No," he finally admitted. "I don't think she does."

Parvati nodded, backing away. "Okay. Well, goodbye, Harry."

"Goodbye, Parvati."

Harry watched her until she was out of sight, feeling like the world's biggest prat. Not even Percy Weasley could top this. He had no business asking Parvati out when he knew he wasn't interested in her. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked away angrily, head bent against the wind and cold. _Tonks_. It was all her fault; she had practically forced him into this against his will. He fumed as he returned to the castle. As soon as she returned from wherever the hell she was, he was going to give her what for. She had no right to mess with his personal life, and now someone had gotten hurt because of it. And to top it all off, she up and disappeared when he needed her.

Harry was aware of the rise and fall of voices ahead of him, but it wasn't until he was right on top of them that he realized they'd stopped.

"Katie, please, will you at least tell me – ow!" The girl Harry crashed into rubbed her elbow and glared at him.

"Sorry," he muttered before noticing who accompanied her. It was his teammate Katie. "Oh, hi, Katie."

She glanced at him blankly, clutching a package to her chest. "Hi. Gotta go," she mumbled, turning around and rapidly walking away.

Harry stared uncomprehendingly. Katie had always been a friendly, outgoing person. What was with her? Her friend chased after her as well, pulling on her arm, demanding to know where the package came from.

"I have to go. It's nothing to do with you," Katie said in a stubborn tone Harry had never heard her use, not even in the worst Quidditch matches. "I have to deliver this."

A delivery for someone in the castle? What was going on? Harry ran after the girls, tapping Katie's shoulder. "Katie, who gave that to you?"

"Leave me alone. I have to deliver this," she repeated, detached. Harry caught a glimpse of her eyes, which although they looked right at him, were unfocused brown orbs, as if in a trance.

_In a trance …_ It clicked so suddenly Harry expected an audible sound. Grabbing Katie's friend with one hand, he pulled his wand and waved it in the direction of the castle, casting a large white figure that quickly disappeared. Still holding the girl, who was struggling, Harry turned his wand to Katie, heart beating fast. _I hope this works._

A flash of red light lit up the cloudy sky.


	9. Fighting

**Fighting**

"You stunned her!" Katie's friend shrieked.

Harry stared at Katie's limp form on the ground, hoping he'd done the right thing. Her friend, now dissolving into near-hysteria, struggled in his grasp, earning his attention.

Harry took her by both arms and shook her lightly, trying to get the girl to calm down. "Listen to me, um – what's your name?"

"Le-Leanne."

"Okay, Leanne, don't worry. I sent for help. I stunned Katie because I'm pretty sure she was Imperiused."

Her dark eyes blinked, widening. "Imperiused?"

"I think so. Where did she get that package?"

"She – she came out of the girls' loo at the Three Broomsticks, and she was holding it, and she said she had to deliver it to someone in the castle, and – and she wouldn't listen to me …"

Her words gave way to tears, and Harry left her with an awkward pat on the arm. He walked past Katie to the package that had fallen out of her grasp when she was stunned. It was medium-sized and wrapped in rough brown paper, which had torn upon falling. Something glinted in the hole, and Harry reached out with his foot to nudge it.

"What the bloody hell is going on?"

Harry whirled around at the familiar voice, and despite the seriousness of the situation, his heart rose. For it wasn't Cooper, for whom the patronus was intended, who had apparated to his side. It was Tonks.

It took but a second for her to take in the crying girl, the stunned one, the object on the ground, and Harry, her eyes demanding an explanation just as her voice had a moment ago.

He pointed to Katie. "That's my friend Katie. I think she was Imperiused and made to take that –" He shifted his finger to the package. "To the castle. So I stunned her."

Her eyebrows arched at this piece of information, but without speaking she pulled out a medallion that hung around her neck. She tapped it with her wand, replacing it under her shirt after it briefly glowed blue.

"Right." She turned her attention to Leanne. "What's wrong with you?"

"She was with Katie," Harry supplied. "Her name is Leanne."

Tonks's expression softened, though a certain impatience lingered. She put her arm around Leanne. "Leanne, I'm an Auror, and I promise you Katie will be fine. Now can you tell me exactly what happened, from the moment she received that package until now?"

Still sniffling, Leanne repeated her story.

"You didn't go to the loo with her?"

"No."

"Did you see anyone follow her in there?"

"No, but I wasn't paying attention."

"Did you notice anyone out of place in the pub?"

"No, but it was really crowded, and there are always strangers in the Three Broomsticks …"

Tonks rubbed her arm. "That's okay. We'll figure it out. Harry, I –" She broke off as another familiar Auror appeared in their midst. "Coop, thank God."

She pulled her partner to one side, and they held a quiet but rapid conversation. Once finished, Cooper gave Harry a nod before twisting on the spot, disappearing in thin air.

"You lot! Stay back!" Tonks snapped all of a sudden, and the growing crowd of curious students froze. Keeping one eye on Katie, she beckoned Harry with her head. "Harry, is there anyone over there you trust?"

He eyed the crowd until he spotted someone he knew. Of course he was here. "Yeah, that's Colin. He was in the DA."

"Oi! Colin!" she yelled, and the undersized fifth year stumbled forward, looking rather terrified. "Hey, Colin. I need you to run as fast as you can to the castle and send the first teacher you find this way, okay? It's important. Say Auror Tonks sent you. Now go."

Colin nodded, beaming at Harry as he took off.

"Okay." Tonks looked back and forth between Katie and the package. "Okay," she repeated, clearly thinking. Reaching an apparent decision, she turned to the still-lingering crowd of students, all watching the scene with rapt interest. "All of you, go back to the castle. Now."

Some muttered rebelliously, but her tone and expression were as authoritative as McGonagall ever was, and they soon filed past.

"Harry, I want you to levitate that package," Tonks said once everyone was gone. "You and Leanne, follow me." After conjuring a stretcher, she placed Katie on it and began to levitate her back to the castle, Harry with the package and a bewildered Leanne in her wake.

Harry did some rapid calculations in his head as they walked. If Malfoy had left McGonagall's office soon after Harry departed, he would have had plenty of time to reach Hogsmeade himself and place the Imperius Curse on Katie. Harry had no doubt the Slytherin was involved. What he really wanted to know was what was in the package, how Malfoy had gotten it into Hogsmeade, and for whom it was intended. Clearly Katie herself had been chosen at random, simply a means of transportation. But how would she have gotten it past Filch and his Secrecy Sensors, jabbing every which way? Malfoy wasn't the most intelligent person Harry had ever met, but nor was he an idiot. Unless this was just a diversion for some other nefarious plan, a prospect Harry didn't even want to consider.

Having exhausted himself on Malfoy, Harry turned his attention to Tonks in front of him. Where had she come from? His anger with her returned in full force, going beyond his irritation about the Parvati situation. Her disregard for giving him any sort of notice about her departure or return stung, for Harry thought they had moved past the casual friendship they'd shared over the years.

Professor Snape met them halfway to the castle, Colin on his coattails. "Nymphadora?"

For once Tonks didn't object to her first name, summing up the event in a few terse sentences. "Take Katie to the Hospital Wing," she finished, again in the commanding tone that Harry now thought of as her Auror voice. "Tell Madam Pomfrey no one sees her. Make sure she's clear on that, Severus. I don't want to take the chance of someone hurting or obliviating her in case she remembers something useful. And then meet us in Professor McGonagall's office. I want you to look at this package with me."

Surprisingly, Snape merely jerked his head in acquiescence, his eyes passing dismissively over Harry as he took control of the stretcher from Tonks. "Return to your common room, Creevey," he ordered when he nearly ran into the small boy, and with a disappointed look Colin departed.

In turn Tonks took the package from Harry, and the trio took it to McGonagall's office, where they startled the teacher at her desk.

"There's been an incident, Professor," Tonks said before the older witch could speak. "Katie –" She snapped her fingers at Harry.

"Bell," he provided.

"Katie Bell was Imperiused in Hogsmeade, I think, and made to carry a package to the castle. She was stunned before she reached the gates. Severus took her to the Hospital Wing; she's unharmed. I've the package right here." She deposited it on McGonagall's desk gingerly, then nodded her head at the two students. "Leanne and Harry were witnesses."

"My goodness," McGonagall said faintly. "We were afraid of an attack in Hogsmeade, but nothing like this. Well done, Nymphadora."

"Oh it wasn't me," she clarified, pointing her thumb at Harry. "Harry's the one who recognized that she was Imperiused and stunned her to stop her. Then he sent for me. I called Cooper, and he went to Hogsmeade to secure it. They're escorting all the students back as a precaution."

McGonagall absorbed this without blinking, turning her gaze to the students. "Very well. Potter, Miss Spinks, kindly come forward and tell your stories."

Leanne spoke first, still clearly distraught. When she finished, McGonagall sent her to get a calming draught from Madam Pomfrey and then indicated Harry was to share his part. Tonks reiterated her actions and instructions, and when all was said and done, Professor McGonagall returned to her seat, forehead creased in thought.

"I don't need to tell you how bad this is," Tonks said quietly.

"Indeed you do not. I never imagined I would do this for one student stunning another, but fifteen points to Gryffindor, Potter. That was very quick thinking. When Severus returns, we shall take a careful look at this package. In the meantime –"

"No need to wait any longer." Snape swept into the classroom. He, Tonks, and McGonagall formed a loose circle around the desk, and, ignored, Harry moved to one side, trying to see what lay inside. Tonks and Snape poked and prodded the package for several minutes, muttering to each other and themselves while McGonagall remained an observer. Snape finally slit the paper with his wand, and after more spells Tonks levitated a glittering opal necklace into the air.

"I know what that is," Harry blurted out. Three sets of eyes stared at him. "That was in Borgin and Burkes. It's cursed."

"We have determined that," Snape said curtly. "Had Miss Bell touched this, she would undoubtedly be dead."

"How do you know that was in Borgin and Burkes, Harry?" Tonks asked.

"I saw it the summer before my second year," Harry remembered. "And I wasn't the only one. Draco Malfoy and his father saw it, too. It was the day Lucius Malfoy gave Ginny Tom Riddle's diary."

"What were you doing in Knockturn Alley at the age of twelve?" Tonks inquired inquisitively.

"It was an accident. The point is –" He glanced at Snape warily before deciding to go ahead. "This could be the object Malfoy told Borgin to keep safe."

"I hardly –" Snape began, but McGonagall cut him off.

"Draco Malfoy was not in Hogsmeade today. He spent the morning in detention with me."

"But he could have gone after –"

McGonagall shook her head. "He was here until half an hour ago, Potter."

"We can figure out who did it later," Tonks broke in. "For the time being, it's enough that this was intended for someone in the school. Who that might be … we have three known Order members right here, plus Dumbledore, another Auror at the school all week, or even Harry."

"It wasn't meant for me," Harry disagreed. "I talked directly to Katie. She was insistent that she reach the castle."

"Fine, not you," Tonks said impatiently, waving her hand. "And this happened on a day when not only is Professor Dumbledore gone, but there was no Auror in the castle until about an hour ago. This was deliberate."

"Of course it was," Snape said caustically. "Students do not normally bring cursed necklaces into the castle as casually as they do dungbombs from Zonko's."

Tonks sent him a nasty look as she perched on a desk, settling into a contemplative state. Eventually she jumped to her feet, pacing back and forth and nodding to herself. "Right. Here's what's going to happen. Severus, lock that necklace in your office until I can take it to the Ministry. It's evidence. Katie remains under supervision in the Hospital Wing, sedated with no visitors, until we can escort her to St. Mungo's. Removing the Imperius Curse is no easy task. And I want a list of every student that went to Hogsmeade today."

"Filch will have that," McGonagall told her.

"Have him bring it to my quarters. And then, Professor, I want to interview every single person on that list."

There was a moment of shocked silence before McGonagall spoke again. "Nymphadora, are you sure that is necessary?"

"Absolutely. I'll be damned if something like this is going to happen on my watch. Someone had to have seen something, and I intend to figure this out." Harry realized that Tonks took this personally. "I'll need a teacher to accompany me every time unless the student is of age. And a classroom to set up my investigation."

McGonagall and Snape exchanged a look. "You can have one of the empty classrooms in the Oxford corridor on the first floor," the Transfiguration teacher said.

"Excellent." Tonks looked directly at each professor. "And I want to speak to Draco Malfoy." She smiled grimly. "I think it's time my cousin and I had a little chat."

"I thought we established there is no significant link," said Snape with a penetrating look.

"And I don't bloody care," she retorted. "Whatever is going on, he's a part of it. Make it happen, Severus, or I'll do it myself." Without waiting for a response, she headed for the exit briskly. "So: locket in your office, list of students from Filch, interviews to start tomorrow. And no one puts one toe in the Hospital Wing. Good? Good."

Rather impressed by how she'd taken control, Harry watched Tonks speed out of the room with a Snape-worthy billow of her long coat. When neither teacher glanced his way, he hurried after the Auror. She didn't so much as look up when he fell into step, and Harry eyed her curiously.

"You look horrible," he said bluntly.

"Missed you, too, darling." She glanced at him with a half-smile, dark circles under bloodshot eyes prominent in her white skin.

He chuckled. "Sorry. Do you know there's some sort of wonky stuff in your hair?"

She reached up with one hand, patting experimentally. "Dried shampoo," she explained. "I was in the shower when your patronus arrived, left in a bit of a hurry."

"I actually sent it to Coop."

"He already left, so you got me. Sorry to disappoint."

"You're never a disappointment." A long pause. "Are you going to tell me where you were?"

"Harry, can the Spanish Inquisition wait until I at least get to my quarters?" she asked peevishly. "I've a splitting headache."

Harry relented, and as they walked he tried to figure out how Malfoy got the necklace, took it to Hogsmeade, and Imperiused Katie without actually being there. Perhaps Crabbe or Goyle, but Harry couldn't see either of them having anywhere near the skill needed to pull off the Imperius Curse, even if it had been a shoddy one to judge by her dazed state.

Tonks didn't object when Harry followed her into her room, heading straight for the wardrobe where she searched for and subsequently chugged a small vial, massaging her forehead after the potion went down.

"Much better. How was your date?" she asked absently, dropping heavily onto a small sofa and tugging her boots off to reveal bare feet.

"Where are your socks?" Harry asked curiously.

"I forgot them." Tonks stood, stripping her outer layers until nothing remained but jeans and a tight vest. "Now, how was your date?"

"My date?" Harry repeated, trying very hard not to stare.

She pushed his head away playfully as she passed him on her way to the bathroom, where she stuck her head under the tap. "Your date. To Hogsmeade. With Parvati."

"Oh, right. It was horrible, actually," said Harry. "She dumped me."

Tonks reappeared in the doorway, rubbing dripping wet hair with a towel, eyebrows arched. "Really? Sorry, mate."

"You should be." His anger reappeared in a rush.

She paused, one finger in her ear as she dried it. "And why is that?"

"I shouldn't have asked her out in the first place," Harry snapped. "I was never interested in Parvati. I _told_ you I wasn't interested in her. The only reason I asked her out was so you wouldn't muck around in my life."

"Harry, I didn't –"

"You had no right to get involved like that. She's my friend, and I hurt her." Harry whirled around, glowering at the mirror.

Tonks bit her lip before dropping the towel and sighing. "Harry, I'm sorry. Really I am. I only thought you needed a little nudge. I never would have followed through on speaking to Ginny, okay? I'm really sorry."

"I shouldn't have listened to you," he muttered, shooting irritated glances at her reflection. "You didn't force me. It's really my fault." The admission did nothing to relieve his anger.

"Okay," she said warily. "If looks could kill, Harry. I said I was sorry. What gives?"

"Where have you been?" he demanded more than asked.

Her eyebrows shot skyward again. "Working. In Cardiff, if you must know."

"Coop said you were due back days ago."

Her mouth hardened. "Don't _ever_ talk to Coop about me, okay? It took longer than I planned. It's my job, Harry."

"I thought your job was to be here."

"My job is to be wherever the Auror Office tells me to go," she said, her voice dropping dangerously. "The castle was protected by an Auror with six more years experience than me, I might add. Why are you still upset with me?"

"You could have told me you were leaving," said Harry resentfully.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I reported to you," Tonks snapped, sending him a haughty look. "I'll send you a memo next time."

Harry struggled to find the right words. "I didn't know where you were!" he finally burst out, turning around to face her. "I woke up one day and you were gone, no word –"

"It was short-notice and classified, alright? You can't –"

"And then you never came back, even Coop was –"

"Coop worries more than my bloody mother. Don't listen to him, and don't waste your time fretting about me. You have more important things to do, and I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, but I want to know you're okay!"

They stared at each other for a long time, Tonks weary and frustrated, Harry vulnerable and agitated. He struggled to sort out the conflicted feelings swirling in his mind.

Finally Tonks ran a hand over her hair, taking a few steps closer. "Listen, Harry, be angry about Parvati if you want. That was thoughtless of me. But you cannot be upset with me for doing my job or for keeping you in the dark. I can't deal with that right now." Her words tumbled out in a flood. "I have been undercover for a week, which is very stressful for your information, I haven't slept in about thirty-six hours, I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday, some nasty curses were sent my way very early this morning, I'm bloody freezing, Draco Malfoy tried to kill someone in this castle under my nose and I've no bloody proof, and to top it off I was in such a hurry when I got your patronus that I think I put my knickers on backward which is really uncomfortable!"

She glared at him, dark eyes plainly exhausted, and suddenly his anger melted away. "Tonks …"

"And don't tell me you can help me fix them, either."

"I wasn't going to …"

"Well, I would have said it if I were you, so you just missed a good one." Tonks managed a small smile with a glimmer of her characteristic cheek, but just as quickly it disappeared. She leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder. "I'm just so tired, Harry."

Touched by her rare moment of vulnerability, his arms encircled her automatically. He couldn't think of a thing to say, so he just held her. Despite her complaints about being cold, she radiated heat in his arms, and he wondered if she was always that warm. Damp hair brushed his cheek, and a citrus scent teased his nostrils like an elusive memory. Harry took a tentative sniff, trying to figure out the origin.

Tonks stiffened, though she didn't break the embrace. "Did you just smell my hair?"

"No," Harry immediately denied.

"I think you did."

"No, I didn't."

Tonks pulled back with a teasing expression, but their eyes locked and whatever she was going to say evaporated. A lock of stray hair threatened to drift into her eye, and he was dying to brush it away. Harry's mouth once again became incredibly dry. Was this some Metamorphmagus trick, keeping him paralyzed with brown eyes and fair skin?

Damn. That hair was driving him crazier than he'd ever felt in his life. Unable to resist, Harry slowly reached up, her eyes tracking the movement though she made no move to stop him. His thumb had just brushed her temple when someone knocked at the door, and they jumped apart guiltily.

"You shouldn't be in here," Tonks muttered, hastily throwing on a hooded sweatshirt. She opened the door. "Hey."

"Hey, Tonks." Cooper walked in, taking a double check when he saw Harry. "Hi, Harry."

"Hi." Harry wiped his palms, inexplicably sweaty, on his jumper.

"McGonagall's lent us a classroom on the first floor," Tonks told her partner. "I'll change and we can set up there."

Harry beat a hasty path for the doorway, dying to escape the room. Three really was a crowd. "Well, now you know everything, so I'll go. And I'm glad you're back."

Tonks smiled. "Me, too."

"See you later, Harry," Cooper called.

"Yeah, bye."

Harry stood in the corridor outside her room for a moment. Then, grinning to himself, he set off until he was around a corner and out of sight. "Kreacher?"

With a loud CRACK, his house-elf, currently in service at Hogwarts but still under his ownership, appeared next to him, sending a look of deep loathing even as he bowed. "Yes, Master Harry?"

"Kreacher, I need you to do something for me …"

Harry wasted time in the library, hiding in a dark, rarely used alcove, trying to avoid other students. The news about Katie was sure to make the rounds, and he didn't want to be interrogated. When he decided sufficient time had passed, he made a beeline for the normally unused classrooms on the first floor, peeking into a certain one.

His timing was perfect. Tonks and Cooper were exclaiming over a platter of sandwiches and several steaming thermoses that had been waiting for them. As if she sensed something, Tonks glanced up right before he slipped away. Smiling, she made a beeline for him.

"You did this, didn't you?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Bacon sandwiches, coffee and hot chocolate blended together … you are something else, babe."

"Babe?" he repeated, a slightly higher octave than normal.

Her smile widened. "We're secret lovers now, remember? And in the books, secret lovers always have secret names."

"And what about you?" he asked, feeling bold.

"Well, that's up to you," she said cheekily. "Thanks for this, truly. You're so sweet I'm getting a toothache. I'm famished and knackered to boot."

"You're welcome."

"You did smell my hair, didn't you? Creep."

"I did no such thing," he protested.

"Whatever you say, babe. I should get back to work now. We'll be pulling an all-nighter, no doubt."

"Don't work too hard. See you tomorrow."

"Harry?" He turned, and Tonks winked. "It's apple."

**oOo**

Harry faced Tonks with trepidation, tugging at the clothes she had provided for him. Tonight, their first session since the Hogsmeade incident, was apparently Harry's introduction into wandless fighting. And now, dressed in a similar version of her training uniform which she claimed to have "blagged from the quartermaster", she expected him to do what?

"Tonks, I can't … I can't _hit_ you."

Tonks put her hands on her hips, smiling cheerfully. "Why not? Is it because I'm a helpless girl? The weaker sex? Worried about hurting poor wittle Tonks?"

"You're not weak by any means. It's just too weird."

"Harry. You asked me to teach you, so I am. Now, do as I say, or detention." To underscore her words, she morphed her face into a complete copy of McGonagall's, though Harry was sure the elderly witch had never worn such a grin. "In combat, getting disarmed puts you at a distinct disadvantage, and this is the best way to defend yourself." She backed off, bending her knees and rocking on the balls of her feet. "So, take me down."

Harry mirrored her posture, rushing toward her halfheartedly before stopping halfway and throwing his hands down in disgust. "I can't."

"You can if I say you can." Tonks walked toward him, and he could see frustration in her eyes. "What's your issue? Afraid to be beaten by a girl? You've got at least an inch and a stone or two on me. I'm tough, I can take it. Hit me, Harry."

She began to shove his shoulders, first one, the other, both at the same time. Harry retreated from her flailing hands, but she followed. "C'mon, Potter, are you just going to take this?" She popped him on the side of his head before slapping both his cheeks lightly in repetition.

"Hey, quit!"

"Why? Pissed off yet? Am I making you angry? Are you going to keep letting me do this or are you going to fight back?" She shoved him harder, and he stumbled backward. Tonks bent her knees loosely, rolling her shoulders and twisting her neck. "Go on, then."

Brushing his fringe out of his eyes, Harry stared at her, trying to concentrate. _She's an opponent. An enemy. Not Tonks. Adversary._ But try as he might, he couldn't stop thinking of her as anyone but his dear pink-haired friend. Lurking above it all was the idea that such close contact with Tonks wouldn't be a terrible thing, though not nearly in the manner she intended. Just as he was about to call it quits, Tonks winked and beckoned her fingers in a clear 'come and get me' gesture.

Fine. If she wanted him to hit her, he would. Lowering his head, he charged. Right when his hands were about to grasp her waist, Tonks neatly sidestepped and twisted, shoving him face first into the mat. Before he knew what was happening, she fell with a knee in his back, twisting both arms behind him painfully.

"There you go," she said in approval as he struggled fruitlessly. "Now that you know you can do it, lose the anger and think clearly. Rushing me like that was sloppy and obvious. Anger will only get you so far." She assumed a combat stance again, indicating for him to reciprocate. "Now, knock me on my arse."

Five minutes later, Harry landed flat on his back as Tonks straddled him, holding each of his hands straight out to his sides. "That was good. Next time, don't hesitate. You gave me time to see what you were planning. Widen your stance and bend your knees a bit. That will lower your center of gravity and give you more stability."

"I'm still afraid I'll hurt you."

Tonks laughed. "Have I hurt you yet?"

"Not really." Harry tried to lift his arms or twist his hips, but she was stronger than she looked.

She clicked her tongue. "You'll get up when I let you. What, you don't like it when I lay you flat on your arse?"

"Actually, it's not so bad."

She threw her head back and laughed heartily, finally releasing his hands. "We'll see how much you like it when I've done it a half dozen times."

And as Harry climbed off the mat for the sixth time, feeling the beginnings of soreness, he had to admit she was right. Only once had he managed to gain the advantage, and that position left him with her bum shoved in his face. Which was quite unfair, leaving him distracted long enough for Tonks to twist away and send him sprawling on his face again.

Harry lost count of how many times he picked himself up that night. Tonks laid him on his back, on his face, twisted his arms behind him, sat on top of him, and once landed with her palm flat on his neck, an inch away from cutting off his air supply. In the end the only thing he was pleased about was that when she finally rolled away and didn't order him to stand up, she was breathing as hard as he was.

Tonks tossed him a bottle of water and an apple. "I think you're suffered enough. Let's get out of here. And don't worry, we won't spend much time on this. It's what's known as a last resort."

Determined not to have his arse kicked by a girl any longer, Harry quizzed Tonks on different maneuvers nearly all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, contemplating how to use his longer arms to his advantage when the conversation fell into a lull.

"So I hear you're going out with Hermione now," Tonks remarked unexpectedly.

"News to me." He gave her a sideways glance. "Jealous?"

"Can't you see I'm turning green with envy?" Her messy pink crop morphed a lime green. "I'm just taking the piss, babe, I know you aren't. Only it's all over school."

"How do you know what's all over school?"

"You'd be surprised what I overhear." Her voice changed to gossipy chatter, reminding him uncannily of Lavender. "Did you hear that Kate Somers found Kevin Apley and Siobhan O'Reilly necking in the prefect's bath on the fifth floor?"

Harry gasped. "No!"

"The girls got into a screaming match in Astronomy over it."

"Scandalous."

"Isn't it?" she said with relish, then frowned. "It would be a lot more interesting if I had the slightest clue who these people are." They shared a laugh. "So is it safe to assume you and Hermione aren't partaking in the horizontal mambo?"

"I think I would know if we were."

"If you're doing it right." She winked. "Any inkling as to why the school is abuzz?"

He had a good idea, but Harry hesitated before telling her, not sure if he was ready for this conversation. "Ron saw something the night Hermione waited up for us that he might have misinterpreted, and if he told Lavender, everyone knows. Also, after Hogsmeade when I returned to the common room, I went straight for Hermione. I wanted to tell her, right? And Parvati and her friends saw me."

She wrinkled her brow. "How is that any different from any other day?"

"When we broke up, Parvati reckoned there was someone else I fancy." Harry took the plunge. "And there is."

Tonks whistled. "Why, Casanova, you don't waste any time. Do tell. I promise not to get involved this time."

"I'm not telling you a word. I don't want to muck this one up."

"Go on, Harry," she begged, pivoting to face him whilst walking backward and consequently tripping immediately. "Indulge your old friend Tonks. I have no social life of my own, I need to live vicariously through you. At least tell me about the lucky lass. Does she know you fancy her?"

He pondered that. "Sometimes I think she does, but it's hard to tell. It might be her personality."

"So she's a flirt," Tonks guessed astutely.

"I wouldn't say that to her face."

"All flirts know they're flirts, Harry. No big deal. What's she like?"

He grinned, more glad than ever to be under the cloak to hide his face. "She's smart but not in a brainy way like Hermione. She's funny, and she's really confident. She makes me loosen up."

"To be fair, you _are_ an uptight wanker."

"Hey! No comments on my private time."

Tonks laughed, the kind that bubbled up from deep down and always made Harry join in. "Nice one, babe. You have loosened up. Is she pretty?"

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Yes."

"Sounds like a catch." She came to a neat stop in front of the Fat Lady. "Go for it."

Harry muttered something noncommittal. "Hmm. Well, goodnight, Tonks."

"Goodnight, Harry," she called, walking away.

He continued to talk as he climbed through the portrait hole. "She's crazy and outgoing and stubborn and well … she's _you_, Tonks."

**oOo**

Waiting. Why did so much of her job involve waiting? And why was it always in the middle of the night? Rather ironically, Tonks had grown so tired of waiting for a proper interview with Draco Malfoy that she'd taken matters (as well as Harry's invisibility cloak and that handy map) into her own hands. And here she was, waiting for him to return to his common room. She wanted to bring Harry, but there were more reasons that was a bad idea than she cared to contemplate.

_Aha_. Finally the map showed three black dots headed directly for her. Tucking the map and cloak back into her bag, Tonks took a position directly next to the wall the map showed led to the Slytherin common room, no longer bothering to stay out of sight.

"No, no," she called when two massive figures tried to make a hasty escape. "Go to your dorm. You aren't the one I'm looking for."

Eyeing her warily, they mumbled a password and fled without a backwards look. The lone remaining Slytherin continued his approach with a haughtily bored expression, crossing his arms.

"You again." Malfoy looked almost ill, face gray and haggard.

"Me again. How are you?"

"Splendid. Doing interviews at night now?"

"Since you seem so fond of vampiristic tendencies, avoiding sun and the like, I decided I'd accommodate your preferences. Where have you been?"

"I'm a prefect. I have rounds."

"Do prefects need bodyguards now? Things have changed in the last five years."

"What do you want?" he asked in a bored tone.

She assumed a nonchalant position against the wall. "Just a little talk, about any number of things. Katie Bell. Borgin and Burkes. Cursed necklaces. Dark Marks."

His eyes narrowed, but that was the only reaction she received. "What does any of that have to do with me?"

"Don't be so thick. I know what you're up to, Draco."

"Really? Have Potty, the Weasel, and the mudblood been telling stories about me again?"

Her eyes flashed. "Don't say that word."

He smirked. "What word? Mudblood? Don't tell me you're one, with your freakish shape-shifting?"

"My father is a Muggleborn," she told him stiffly, beginning to wonder if he knew about her at all.

"So you're half-mudblood yourself," he drawled.

Tonks pulled her wand so fast he barely had time to flinch. "Say that one more time, you little shit, and I'll hex you so badly we'll see exactly how pure your blood is."

"Go ahead." Malfoy smirked again, his momentary flash of fear gone. "Auror goes mental and attacks student. Should make a great headline."

"Here's a headline for you. Rookie Death Eater curses Auror while her back is turned." Tonks had the satisfaction of seeing her cousin's face darken. "Who do you reckon they'll believe? The Auror, all bright and shiny and heroic, or the son of an Azkaban inmate? I'd rather be half-Muggleborn than half-Death Eater. Though I suppose that's fully fledged now, isn't it?"

"You have no proof of anything," he snarled, and she saw desperation in his cold eyes. It made her uneasy. Desperate people were the most dangerous.

"No, I don't, or we wouldn't be chatting about this." Tonks stepped closer until she could practically touch him, resisting the urge to make herself taller. "But Draco? If you pull another stupid stunt like that necklace, I'll make up the proof I need."

"Here I thought you Order lot never strayed from your high and mighty pedestals," he retorted.

"Oh, I've never met a rule I didn't want to break," she said with a malicious grin. "I'll do whatever it takes to stop people like you. No problem getting my hands dirty; someone has to do it. Consider it giving into my Black side, if you will."

"What are you talking about?" he asked slowly.

She regarded him with disbelief. "You really have no idea, do you? When you go home for Christmas, why don't you ask your mother about her other sister?"

"Her other sister?" he repeated. "Aunt Bella-"

"Isn't her only big sister," Tonks finished. "There were three Black girls. Ask her about the middle one, Andromeda, who just so happens to be my mother."

"You're lying."

"I wish I was. Unfortunately I'm not. You know what that makes us, don't you?" He didn't answer. "Too overjoyed to speak? That's okay, I'll tell you. That makes us cousins, and if I remember correctly, your father doesn't have any siblings. So that means I'm your only cousin." Tonks brushed away an imaginary tear. "What a touching moment."

"Fuck off."

"See how much we have in common? Grey eyes, pale skin, a proclivity for cursing."

He shook his head. "I don't believe you. A proper pureblood would never marry a mudblood."

Her frustration with her inability to prove anything had been simmering just under the surface, and with the addition of Malfoy's attitude, her temper boiled over. Tonks slammed his shoulder against the wall, pinning him there. "I fucking told you not to say that. Don't try my patience. It's in very limited supply."

Malfoy's hand jerked, and for a moment she thought he was going to curse her. She silently begged him to give her an excuse. Unfortunately his common sense won out, and he settled for shoving her away. Tonks took the opportunity for a deep breath, forcing herself not to lose her temper again. She'd be in deep trouble if the Ministry found out she put hands on an underage student.

"What do you want from me?" he asked sullenly. "I'd really like to go to bed."

"Maybe you should stop staying up so late," she retorted, then sighed. Tonks retreated to lean against the opposite wall, dropping any inflections from her voice and hoping sincerity shone. "Listen, Draco. Really listen, because I'm going to give you some honest advice. You're no more my family than Hagrid. I don't like you. I think you're a coward and a bullying shithead. I also think you're what you've been raised to be, and you're old enough to make your own decisions. Though I have deep suspicions, maybe you haven't actually done anything wrong. And if you haven't, it's not too late."

"Too late for what?"

"Too late to turn around. It's not marks on your skin that define your side. It's your actions, and once you cross that line, there's no going back. So against my best judgment, I'm offering you one last chance."

"I don't need your help," he protested stubbornly.

"You need someone's help before you get in over your head." She looked at him almost pityingly. "You know we're onto you. It's only a matter of time before you get caught. Just walk away."

They stared at each other for a long time, and feeling slightly ridiculous, Tonks actually extended her hand, free of a wand. He glanced at it before shaking his head.

"It's not that easy." And Malfoy turned his back, on her, on her offer, on his chance.

Tonks watched him disappear into his dormitory, wondering if she'd have to kill her cousin someday.

**oOo**

Five cloaked figures, all in black, strode down Diagon Alley. It was the dead of night, past business hours for what shops remained, and the few unsavory characters that loitered quickly withdrew into the shadows. The group moved with purpose, not even sparing a glance for the petty thieves and small-time criminals. As a unit they turned into Knockturn Alley on a predetermined route. Not quite halfway down, they paused, and four of them raised their wands. The air seemed to ripple for a moment, and then all was as it had been. One stepped forward, kneeling to roll a small ball-like object down the street. Nothing happened, and apparently satisfied, the man waved his wand, recalling the ball back into his grasp.

The group continued moving quickly, stopping in front of a certain shop. The shortest figure stepped back, blending into the darkness across from their target. The remaining four approached the storefront. The tallest and the smallest assumed positions on either side of the door while the largest took a few steps back, facing it directly. The last stood right in front of the door, nodding to each of his associates before raising his wand.

The door blew inward, and the four figures poured through, each immediately pivoting to face a different direction once inside. They moved fluidly, their inherent trust in each other evident as they followed a certain path with purpose. It was over within minutes, and while two of them spoke with the frightened and angry shopkeeper, pulled from his bed in the flat above the shop, his protests silenced with one roll of official-looking parchment, the other two made their way to a second-floor window overlooking the street.

"That was easy," remarked Tonks, pulling back the hood of her cloak to reveal purple hair peeking out from underneath a striped wool cap.

Cooper gazed out at the sleeping town, removing his own cloak. "No one expected Borgin to put up a fight. He's eighty if he's a day."

"I think the true fight is yet to come," Tonks said. "Now we get to pry out any information about that necklace from the old man, and you know that's going to be a right pain in the arse."

Cooper turned his gaze to the room they occupied, grimacing at the decor, many objects clearly taken from the store's inventory. "Unfortunately you're probably right, but at least we're doing something now. I know you've been chafing at the inactivity, my impatient padawan."

Tonks grinned at his reflection in the window, but whatever she was about to say was forgotten as red sparks lit up the night's sky. "Coop! Sam's signal!"

He whirled around, and she tensed, waiting for his order. "Pincher," he decided. "Up or down?"

She grinned, vanishing the window with a swipe of her wand. "Always up. Loser buys breakfast?"

"You're on."

Tonks climbed out the window, which was luckily not far from the rooftop, freeing her cloak with a practiced yank as she did so it fluttered to the ground. Cooper gave her a boost, but as soon as she had a solid grip on the eaves, she knew he dropped to the street. Climbing to her feet, she looked around and saw the flashes of a duel far to her left.

Stepping to one side of the roof, Tonks rocked back and forth on her scuffed boots a few times before pushing off hard. She sprinted to the opposite side and leaped, landing solidly on the next. Grateful both for mostly flat roofs and tiny alleys, Tonks continued her rooftop sprint, following the progress of the duel with one eye.

Her eyes widened as she took on the next roof, shingled with a steep peak, but she didn't slow, letting her momentum propel her as far up as she could. She landed heavily, immediately dropping onto her stomach with a forced exhale. Her boots scrambled to push her up, dislodging a few loose shingles with a clatter, and she pulled herself to the top with some effort. Standing unsteadily on the ridgepole, she allowed herself one deep breath before she descended, half sliding, half running down the other side.

Unable to build up much speed, Tonks barely made it to the next roof, and her arms pinwheeled for a moment before she regained her balance and took off again. On the next rooftop she passed her target, who seemed to be slowing, and she crossed two more buildings before deciding she'd gone far enough.

Tonks spotted a drainpipe on one side and leaped over the edge with characteristic abandon, sliding down with two gloved hands. She sped to the street and then forced herself to slow, peering around the edge with caution. Her heart was pounding and her breath came rapidly, but she was aware of nothing but the small, wiry man locked in combat with Cooper.

Tonks began to jog toward them, wand in hand, trying to find the right balance between silence and speed. The two figures were moving constantly, and it was hard for her to get a lock on the Death Eater for fear of hitting Cooper. Case in point, one of his own stray curses gouged a hole in the ground a few feet from her. She wasn't quite within range when the unknown Death Eater shot a bolt of green light toward Cooper, forcing her partner to dive into the nearest alleyway, the curse missing him by inches.

That pissed her off.

"OI!" she bellowed, her jog increasing to a sprint, any thoughts of stealth forgotten. Her opponent turned around, and she recognized the balding head and toothy, malicious grin.

"Hello, little girl," said Selwyn in a rough voice, following up his taunt with a blue jet of light.

Tonks deflected it toward him and spun, aiming a disarming charm at his wand hand, a deadening hex at his right leg, and a stunner straight for his head as she crossed the street. His shields were as good as hers, and she was forced to duck quickly. They crashed into the building behind her, showering her with disintegrated stone dust.

When she looked up, a curse was headed straight for her, and she threw herself flat on the ground, sending a reductor curse as she fell.

Her aim off, the spell went astray, but she heard Selwyn swear as something else struck him. He whipped around to face Cooper, who had emerged from the alleyway. Tonks saw her chance and lunged, catching the Death Eater in the knee with a bone-crushing curse. He howled in pain as he dropped, and her partner stunned him before he hit the ground.

She maintained a ready stance, wand held defensively as she slowly spun in a circle. "Only one?" she called to Cooper, who was confiscating Selwyn's wand and restraining his arms.

"Yes."

Tonks put two fingers in her mouth and whistled in a distinct pattern as she sheathed her wand and quickly crossed the distance to her partner. "Alright?"

"Fine. You?"

"Dirty but otherwise unscathed."

She ran one hand over her dust-covered hair, trying to catch her breath and slow her racing pulse. Cooper, standing with one booted foot on Selwyn's back, gazed at her, that look she knew so well in his hazel eyes: weary, frightened, exhilarated, and worried all at the same time.

Distant footsteps turned into loud ones as Sam made his appearance. "Heard your signal. Anyone hurt?"

Cooper nudged their prisoner with his toe. "Just this one here. Tonks got him good. Stabilize the knee and wait here."

"Alex has reinforcements on the way. Jason checked the perimeter, and if there are any others, they're well outside the wards you put up. I don't think this one had any time to call for help."

"Good job on the guard detail, Sam." Cooper patted the young mediwizard on the shoulder as they switched spots. "I'll send two Aurors to transport him as soon as they show up."

Sam nodded, exchanging a smile with Tonks as she walked away with Cooper, who threw an arm over her shoulders.

"I think I could go for a full breakfast, mate," she said. "How about you take me to that place we always go after a night at the pub?"

He looked down at her in astonishment. "Me? I believe I was the one who took him down, and I'd like pancakes."

"Pancakes, my arse," she retorted. "I blew his fucking knee up. He won't be walking for a week. Your stunner was a formality."

Cooper scoffed, and they continued their friendly argument all the way back to Borgin and Burkes, where Alex met them at the door.

"Status?"

"Suspect unconscious and in custody," Cooper reported formally. "Moncrieff has him until we can transport him. No others on the scene."

Alex nodded in approval. "Well done, you two. Who's buying breakfast?"

"He is!"

"She is!"

Alex looked between the two glaring Aurors, then sighed. "Every time," he muttered to himself. "Okay, what happened?"

"_I_ took out his knee with a bone-crushing curse, and that was when he went down," Tonks proclaimed with a superior look.

"Whereupon _I_ stunned and restrained him," Coop finished.

They regarded their boss steadily, who finally nodded to Tonks. "This one goes to Tonks." She began to crow in triumph, but he shushed her with a look. "Don't get too excited. No one is getting breakfast anytime soon. We have a lot of work to do here."

Tonks glanced at Cooper glumly. Bugger. She was really hungry.

**oOo**

Cooper leaned his seat back far enough to rest his feet on the table in front of him. He rubbed his eyes wearily and checked his watch. Damn. Four more hours until he was relieved. Officially, they were cataloging Borgin and Burkes' entire inventory. Unofficially, and truthfully, they were extending the closure for as long as possible in order to deny access to any Death Eaters and seek out the Malfoy boy's mysterious object.

The rest of his team had left once the scene was secured, with a trainee stationed outside on watch. Tonks had begged off duty, claiming she was needed at Hogwarts more than ever. Cooper smiled fondly. His partner had the makings of an excellent Auror, a talented duelist with a knack for spying, but she had no patience for the minute banalities that made up half of their job. He was concerned that her desire to return to the castle had much to do with a certain student, but he hadn't questioned her. Tonks had made it very clear in the past that her romantic life was off limits for discussion, so he was forced to content himself with hoping she knew what she was getting into.

A flash of light in the front room interrupted his musings on the Metamorphmagus. Cooper quickly rolled out of his seat, sliding against the wall next to the door, wand in hand. Not a sound. He waved his wand silently, but the after thirty or so seconds the revealing spell returned to him. No one else was in the building.

The Auror slowly walked around the room, eyes roving in all directions and all senses attuned for another disturbance. He opened every single box, small or large, in case some Dark artifact had been activated. Passing a large cabinet, he nudged open the door with his wand just as he had everything else, expecting to see nothing. And here his search ended most puzzlingly.

On the floor of the cabinet sat a small, rotted green apple.


	10. Order

**Order**

Harry cut his sausage with unusual concentration, focusing on his plate and nothing else. Breakfast that morning was an uncomfortable affair. Despite their promise to stay friends, Parvati barely turned his way and when she did, her wounded look gave him a pang of guilt every time. As Tonks had mentioned, his imaginary relationship with Hermione was the talk of the school, but both were more or less inured to the tiresome gossip. Ron was ignoring Hermione now as well, more to her exasperation than hurt, and as Harry reached for some toast, Lavender actually began feeding Ron at the table in front of everyone. Rounding out the tense atmosphere were Ginny and Dean, who had apparently had a row.

"Harry, look at this," Hermione said, nodding to the _Daily Prophet_ she received every morning. "Aurors raided Borgin and Burkes Friday night."

Breakfast forgotten, Harry's head snapped around. "Really? Does it say why?"

Her eyes scanned rapidly back and forth across the page. "No," she said slowly. "The reporter seems rather irritated because the Aurors refused to comment."

"We know why, right?" said Neville in a low voice, leaning across the table. "Because of what happened last week, and –" He jerked his head across the room, and Harry and Hermione swiveled around.

Draco Malfoy also had a newspaper in front of him, and to Harry's satisfaction his face was even paler than normal, almost to the point of sickly. As he lowered the paper, his mouth tightened in fury, and he very deliberately turned his gaze to the staff table. The three Gryffindors followed in time to see Tonks give Malfoy a cheeky wave.

"All they have to do is find something linking the necklace to him, and he'll be stopped for good," Harry declared, returning to his breakfast with new gusto.

Hermione frowned. "I don't think they did. If they found evidence like that, he wouldn't be sitting in the Great Hall."

"Oh. Right."

"It's only been a day and a bit. I'm sure it takes time," Neville said hopefully.

"Maybe. I'll ask Tonks later," said Harry, sneaking another glance at the staff table.

"Oh, how awful!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Why is that awful?" Harry queried, affronted.

"Not her," Hermione said impatiently, waving the newspaper in his face until he batted it away. "There was a werewolf attack in Wiltshire. It was brutal, even for werewolves."

"How bad?" Parvati asked in a hushed voice. Hermione's outburst had earned the attention of half the table.

"Four deaths," Hermione said to bleak silence. "And one person missing. It doesn't give any names …"

"Four _deaths_?" Dean echoed. "I didn't think werewolves killed very often. I thought they … you know, infected."

"That's probably what happened to the one who's missing." Ginny shared a look with Harry. "But why would they take someone they've already bitten?"

"To turn him to their cause," Harry answered quietly. All eyes were on him. "Against the Ministry and for Voldemort."

"That doesn't make sense," Seamus argued after the table collectively winced. "I thought You-Know-Who is only for purebloods and all that rot."

"The Ministry is hardly any better when it comes to half-breeds. They have all sorts of laws against werewolves, and many people are prejudiced. Remember why Professor Lupin left," Hermione countered heatedly.

"Hermione's right," said Harry. "Voldemort lets them have free rein to do things like this. It's another way for him to terrorize society, another tool to use against those who oppose him. This is who we face."

That effectively ended conversation, and once again Harry ate in silence.

**oOo**

The werewolf attack was still on Harry's mind when he showed up for the Sunday study group. After staring at the blank parchment of his transfiguration homework for a few very long minutes, he suddenly shoved it away and stood up, making his way to the Dark Arts shelves. Possessed by a strange fervor, Harry spent over an hour scribbling his own notes on the abandoned essay.

What Tonks taught was all well and useful, but Harry wanted more. How to deal with Dark creatures such as werewolves and vampires. Ways to block and avoid the Killing and Cruciatus curses, if possible. More advanced offensive curses. Harry was trying more than ever to avoid trouble, but at the same time he wanted to be ready. When a fight came, he didn't merely want to defend himself until it was over.

Harry wanted to win.

**oOo**

"A dead fucking end" was how Tonks described the Borgin raid on Monday night when they entered the Room of Requirement. "Oh, we found the receipt for the necklace. To a numbered account at Gringotts."

"Surely the Gringotts goblins know who owns the account," Harry said, stretching.

"Yeah, but no one said they have to tell us," Tonks said with a grimace. "They pride themselves on security and serving their customers, not blabbing about secret accounts to the government. The goblins regulate themselves; the Ministry has no control. We have no leverage."

"Damn goblins," he muttered.

"Too right. I asked Bill to talk to someone he trusts for me, see if he can pry some information from the buggers. He's our best bet since he's had a relationship with them for years."

"And if that doesn't work?" Harry asked skeptically.

She shrugged. "Dunno. We can hold Borgin for a bit while we inventory the store, and believe me, we're dragging our feet on that, trying to keep it closed as long as possible. And we fined him. Technically it's against the law for him to sell a Dark artifact without strict records, including exactly who bought it."

"So you know who to find when something like Katie and the necklace happens."

"Precisely. But a fine won't make him talk, and we've questioned him as much as legally possible." She brightened. "But, on that note, we may have finally hit our lucky break. There was a Death Eater, bloke named Selwyn, watching the store, and we caught him when we raided. Coop's interrogating him now."

"But if Voldemort is at all smart, he probably didn't tell him why he was guarding the store," Harry said slowly.

"Precisely again." Tonks gave him a grim smile. "Welcome to the wonderful world of hunting Dark wizards. Two steps back for every one forward and a dozen to the side."

"Well, you saw Malfoy at breakfast yesterday, didn't you?" asked Harry. "I thought he was going to be sick."

She matched his grin. "Yeah, that was great. But enough about that. Tonight I want –"

"I have something," Harry interrupted, pulling a folded piece of parchment from his pocket and handing it to her. "I did some research yesterday, and I really want to focus on stuff like this. More offensive techniques. Not that what we've been doing isn't great," he finished hastily. "Just a suggestion."

She read the parchment with interest, occasionally furrowing her brow. When she was finished, she folded it neatly and dropped it in her bag. "Sounds good. So, I want to –"

"What about my notes?" Harry interrupted again. He'd worked really hard on that.

"Well, I need time to plan, don't I?" she said. "And besides, I put a lot of thought into our sessions. You wouldn't want all my hard work to go to waste, would you?" She pouted, pushing her lower lip out just slightly and giving him those _eyes_, and Harry thought he might just gaze at her forever.

"That would be a tragedy," he managed to say. "But only because you're cute when you pout."

She beamed. "I know. I'm a spoiled only child, babe; I learned the art of feminine manipulation at a very young age."

He should have been annoyed at that, but he couldn't muster anything but a fond smile. When she announced they would continue hand-to-hand combat, Harry forced himself not to groan. This type of contact was tantalizingly intimate yet not nearly what he had in mind. But he thought it a sign of progress that he was able to focus on the task at hand and look at Tonks as an opponent to be subdued, not a pretty girl.

Around the room they grappled, one or the other regularly dropping to the cushioned mats. Tonks was quicker but Harry had the advantage of reach, and she was as pleased as him when he pinned her for the third straight time. However, when he gave her a hand up, she used the leverage to knock him off his balance, and she threw herself at him, attempting to kick his feet out from under him. They struggled, and Harry twisted, trying to throw an elbow into her solar plexus and knock the wind out of her, a move she had used with great success earlier. He connected, but with something much harder than an abdomen. When her grip on him suddenly released, he whirled around, arms up defensively, then stopped in his tracks.

By the looks of it, he had broken her nose.

Tonks reeled backward, the two hands she held to her face doing nothing to stop the gushing blood but effectively muffling her stream of curses.

Harry swore, horrified. "I'm sorry! Here, let me fix it." He fumbled for his wand as she took a few steps back, eyes wary. "Don't worry! Wait – what's the incantation?"

The look she gave him was anything but trusting. "_Episkey_," she mumbled thickly.

Harry pointed his wand. "_Episkey_," he said, emphasis on the first syllable.

Clearly that wasn't it. Tonks yelped as the blood flow only increased. "_Episkey_, Harry, _Ep-ISK-ey_," she yelled. "Like whiskey!"

He tried again, and thankfully this time the nose ceased bleeding, though by now she had the beginnings of two superb black eyes. "Sorry."

"Oww," she moaned, still cupping her nose in her hands. "Bugger me, that hurts."

"Don't be such a baby," he scolded gently. "Let me see."

"I'm not a baby," she muttered defiantly, allowing Harry to tug her hands away. Her nose still looked decidedly off, and he cast the healing spell again, stronger than his first hasty attempt. She sighed with relief.

"I was going for your stomach," he explained.

She gave him a worn smile. "I thought you would do that, so I was trying to duck and take you down at the same time. Guess I wasn't fast enough. Whatever works, I suppose, though in a real situation I wouldn't let a broken nose stop me." She wiped at her chin, gazing at the two red-smeared fingers with distaste. "Ugh. I don't even want to know what I look like right now."

He chuckled. "Let me get that."

Holding her chin with one hand, Harry siphoned the blood off her face. He didn't release her when she finished, and Tonks gazed at him with an almost curious expression. _Bloody hell._ There they were again, so close Harry could practically make out her individual eyelashes, the smell of apple-scented hair mixed with a hint of sweat flooding his senses. They really needed to stop meeting like this, or Harry couldn't possibly be held responsible for his actions. He contemplated telling her that, wondering if her laugh was as intoxicating when he was this close, but then all jokes were driven out of his head.

Her focus very clearly dropped to his mouth, lingering. Harry was seized with the mad idea of kissing her, the proximity of pale pink lips overwhelming despite the probability of the Auror hexing his favorite bits. Summoning all his Gryffindor courage, he slowly leaned forward. Tonks tilted her head just slightly, and his heart beat a staccato rhythm. At the last minute he stopped, lightly brushing the tip of her nose with a finger.

"Better?" he asked hoarsely.

Her eyes flew open. Was that an ill-concealed expression of disappointment? "Very," she breathed, swallowing. "I think, ah, I think … that we've done enough hand-to-hand combat, yeah?"

He nodded, turning away.

"And remind me to throw in a crash course on basic healing spells."

On their way back to Gryffindor Tower, he glanced at Tonks out of the corner of his eye. Her wandlight reflected blue eyes that were distant, troubled, and he very much hoped he wasn't the cause.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"The Order," she replied unexpectedly. "We have a meeting tomorrow night."

"Anything important?"

She made an impatient gesture. "I don't know. Things have been … uneasy lately." When Harry raised his eyebrows, she continued. "To be honest, we haven't really done much since the Department of Mysteries incident. We guarded you over the summer, and we guard Hogwarts when Dumbledore leaves. Yeah, he asks us to patrol the school when he's away, but he won't tell us why. And for some members, that's fine."

"And other?" he prompted.

"Some of us – myself included – are chafing a bit. We want to do more, and we want more explanations than we've been given in the past. Death Eaters are running amok, and we just stand back, waiting to respond to the latest crisis. Besides Remus's missions with the werewolves, of course."

"And even that looks to be unsuccessful," said Harry, thinking of the recent attack.

"Yeah. So I'm not looking forward to it. I don't know what to do."

"Take me," Harry blurted out.

"Take you?" She raised her eyebrows. "Out? Away to that special place? Home tonight? As you are? Right now on the floor of the Hall of Hexes?"

"Not at this moment," Harry quipped, grinning. "Take me to the meeting."

"And that will solve …?"

"Nothing, probably," he told her frankly. "But there's a war on, and you know as well as Dumbledore that I'm a part of it. I'd like to know what the situation is when I do get my chance."

"You really reckon no one will care if you just pop into a meeting one night?" she asked wryly.

"Oh, no. I expect quite a row. But maybe he'll start to take me seriously, and what do I have to lose?"

She looked at him keenly for a moment, tilting her head, but Harry knew Tonks well enough to recognize the gleam of challenge in her eyes. "Yeah, okay," she agreed with a shrug.

It wasn't until she left him at the Fat Lady and began walking away that he heard her mutter, "This is a very bad idea."

**oOo**

"This is a very bad idea."

Harry walked into Tonks's quarters. "Nice to see you, too. Are you having second thoughts? That's a loser move."

She made a face at hearing her own words. "Not at all. All my best adventures started with someone proclaiming it to be a bad idea. I'm simply making sure you know what you're getting yourself into."

He smiled cynically. "I predict a disaster, but maybe it will give them something to think about." He brushed past her, glancing at the mess on her bed. "Speaking of disaster …"

"Hush. I'm reorganizing my kit. It's important that I maintain all my supplies as well as know exactly where everything is. I do this before every mission or at least once a week regardless, and you caught me in the middle." She glanced at her watch. "We should get there a bit late so that everyone else has already arrived, so give me a few minutes to wrap this up and we'll go."

Harry took a seat, watching as she carefully replaced each item. Some were unsurprising – vials of Veritaserum, Polyjuice Potion, blood-replenishing potion, and others. Some made sense once he thought about it – Decoy Detonators and Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder from Fred and George's shop. Others were more unexpected – matches, a multi-tool, a torch.

"Is this all required?" he asked.

Tonks held up one finger, brow furrowed in concentration as she finished, placing flapjacks and packets of instant coffee mix in side pockets. "Huh?"

"Is everything required?"

She shook her head. "Not all. Every Auror customizes his or her own kit. Some think I'm mental with the Muggle goods, but they're handy. Remind me someday to tell you the story of how I aced one of my qualification tests with the multi-tool."

"And what is _this_?" Harry picked up the last remaining item on the bed, a short but rather wicked-looking dagger.

She plucked it from his hands. "This is my boot knife." Propping one foot on her desk, she slid it into what he guessed was a specially designed sheath inside her boot.

"Have you ever used it?"

"No, but Alex has, and he requires our team to carry one. Like unarmed combat, it's a last resort, but it can be just what you need to catch an opponent by surprise. Particularly Death Eaters, since many consider Muggle methods to be so beneath them." She removed it, cautiously sheathing the knife inside her bag. "But I don't wear it as a matter of everyday practice." After shrugging into her jacket, she grinned at Harry. "Ready, babe?"

"Lead the way."

Tonks strode to her fireplace, lighting it with her wand. "This is highly illegal, of course, but Arthur has a discreet contact in the Floo Network. Makes it much easier to travel back and forth. Shall we?" Throwing a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, she stepped into the green flames and shouted, "Twelve Grimmauld Place!"

After she disappeared, Harry followed. When he reeled out of the fireplace into the basement kitchen of the Order headquarters, trying to regain his equilibrium, he stumbled over a prone figure on the floor.

"Sorry!" Tonks said, picking herself up and dusting off her clothes. "I tripped."

Harry didn't reply, gazing around the room. He had completely forgotten that the meeting would be in Grimmauld Place. The last time he had been here, so had Sirius, and after his godfather's death Harry swore he would never set foot in the house he inherited. Memories flooded, bittersweet and painful.

A gently laid hand on his shoulder diverted his attention, and he looked into the sympathetic green eyes of Tonks. She patted his arm, offering a brief smile before heading for the door.

"Are you ready for this?"

Harry nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah."

He followed her upstairs, and when they reached the door to the drawing room, she squeezed his hand. As she pushed the door open, he braced himself. The casual chatter and happy greetings of the tardy member gave way to utter silence when Harry stepped out from behind Tonks, staring at over a dozen surprised, confused, and familiar faces. At least Professor Snape wasn't in attendance.

Mrs. Weasley was the first to speak, standing and taking a few steps toward him. "Harry? Why in the world are you here?"

"Yes, Potter, what are you doing here?" Professor McGonagall narrowed her already-thin lips. "Not at school, where you're supposed to be."

"He has permission," Tonks piped up, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket. She cleared her throat. "I, Petunia Dursley, give my nephew, Harry Potter, permission to accompany this strange woman wherever she pleases as long as she leaves my house immediately and never returns." She grinned. "I used a dictation quill. It's really what she said. Lovely woman."

"And would this be the reason Vernon Dursley drove home in a great hurry in the middle of the day with a rather large bottle of brandy?" Dumbledore asked quietly, neither his tone nor face betraying any feeling.

Tonks adopted an innocent expression. "I have no idea. Perhaps she's a bit of a lush. I only tried to help with her housework."

"This is beside the point," McGonagall snapped irritably. "Potter, you simply cannot leave school when you feel like it, regardless of your guardian's permission."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Harry said, trying to project an image of calm maturity instead of headstrong youth. "But I can't stand on the sidelines any longer." He turned his attention directly to Dumbledore. "Sir, I know we already talked about this. But you know I have a role to play. You _know_ that. All I'm asking is to attend meetings, to keep up with what Voldemort is doing. I have to know what I will face."

"Harry, I'm afraid our position is the same as it has always been," thin, balding Mr. Weasley said. "Order members must be of age and out of school."

"All he wants is to be in the know," Tonks argued. "What would it hurt?"

Remus Lupin, shabby as always over in a corner, spoke up for the first time. "I must point out that circumstances have changed since the Order first reconvened. Though Harry simply showing up like this is impulsive, I can't see the harm in allowing him to ask questions, just as we did when You-Know-Who returned."

Harry gave his former teacher a grateful smile. "That's all I want," he said quickly. "Please, Professor."

"We will give this some thought," Dumbledore said. All chatter in the room ceased when he spoke; Harry had never been more aware that this was Dumbledore's group. "At the present, however, I think it best if you return to Hogwarts. Minerva?"

"Yes, let's go, Potter," McGonagall said crisply, moving to his side.

Harry stared at Dumbledore with dismay. True, he had expected no other outcome, but he was letdown nonetheless. How long was Dumbledore going to view him as just another student? It had taken one death for him to reveal the prophecy. Would it take another for him to admit that Harry played a vital part in the fight against Voldemort? For him to offer help? Anger rose boiling from his gut, and the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead burned fiercely. Harry gritted his teeth, rubbing his temple. In the past the burning of his scar signaled a glimpse into Voldemort, but no memories forced their way into his consciousness.

He became aware that all eyes were on him. Harsh words formed in his throat, and then he paused. A show of anger wouldn't help anything, and so perhaps for the first time Harry Potter clamped down on his hair trigger temper, opting simply for spinning on his heel to walk away.

"Harry," Tonks began. He glanced at her, and the tautness of her mouth told him the drawing room of Grimmauld Place was about be the site of another legendary Black outburst.

"Tonks, it's fine." He gave her a quick smile when she made to protest. "Really. I'll talk to you later."

"If you say so. See you later, mate."

A few other members of the Order called goodbyes as he departed, and Harry took note. He might be contacting them in the future.

**oOo**

Tonks faced her associates. Their expressions covered an interesting spectrum, all the way from intrigue and sympathy to disappointment and anger.

"Please sit down, Nymphadora," Dumbledore requested pleasantly, again demonstrating a remarkable ability to act like nothing happened.

She shook her purple head. "Can't do that, Professor. We need to talk about this."

"Of course we do," he agreed unexpectedly. "I was merely extending a courtesy. By all means, stand, if you prefer."

"You can't be taking the boy seriously," elderly Elphias Doge wheezed from the sofa.

"And why not?" Tonks demanded, fully aware her hold on her temper was unraveling. They hadn't even listened to Harry.

"What were you thinking, Tonks?" Molly asked, clearly appalled.

"I was thinking that Harry's earned a place here," she retorted.

"He's a boy!"

"If I allow Harry, then would you expect me to allow his friends as well?" Dumbledore asked.

"It wouldn't be a terrible thing, Albus," Mad-Eye said. Tonks smiled at her mentor. People paid far more attention to the battle-hardened veteran than the clumsy rookie. "They'll be in the Order in a year or two anyway; I think we can all admit there's no stopping that. It wouldn't be a bad idea to let them learn the ropes before they jump in."

"You want to involve teenagers in a war?" Molly was aghast. "Are you serious, Alastor?"

"A year or two is a long time for teenagers anyway," Dumbledore's brother Aberforth countered, one of the few times he had spoken in a meeting that Tonks could recall. "They may very well change their minds by then."

"I taught them all three years ago, and I can assure you that their natures remain the same," Remus said. "Allowing them access to information they'll probably gleam from other sources regardless isn't exactly involving them in a war. We're not talking about recruiting child soldiers."

"Exactly! They're around during the summer anyway. Give them a little bit of knowledge, a little bit of training, and so when they do join up (or do something stupid like break into the Department of Mysteries) they'll be that much better prepared."

"They're still young, and we shouldn't force them to grow up any faster than they have to," Molly said firmly. "Harry's had enough of that in his life."

"There's a war on, Molly," Tonks said with impatience. "Do you really think they have much of a jolly adolescence as it is? And Harry's different anyway. How many times has Voldemort gone after him?"

"Oh, not that Chosen One nonsense." Sturgis Podmore snorted in derision.

"Different how, Tonks?" Hestia Jones asked curiously.

Tonks gave Dumbledore a pleading glance. She wasn't about to break Harry's trust and reveal the prophecy. Dumbledore was the only one in the room who knew exactly what she referred to, and if he didn't speak up now, she would give up. "Just different," she muttered stubbornly, furious. "And besides, this all might be over in a year or two, and not necessarily on our terms."

"What a vote of confidence," someone murmured, but she couldn't make out who.

She began pacing back and forth across the room. "We're not exactly winning, are we? People are dying, everyone's terrified of their shadow, and what are we doing? Sitting in a dusty old house. Roaming the halls of Hogwarts. We need to do more."

One of the twins spoke up, Fred, she thought. "I have to agree with Tonks. George and I are the only new members since this started, and all we've done is a few guard shifts over Harry while he was at his uncle's."

"What exactly are you proposing, Tonks?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know!" she burst out, throwing her hands in the air. "Just … _more_. To do more besides wait for something to happen. I feel like that's all we do."

"You want to go looking for trouble, go right ahead, girlie," Aberforth grumbled. "Leave the rest of us out of it."

That was it; she couldn't take anymore, even if others were on her side. Hestia began to speak rather heatedly, but Tonks spoke over her. "You know what? Forget it. I – I can't do this anymore. This goes beyond Harry. I don't know why this group has settled into lethargy, but I don't want any part of it. By the time you all pull your head out of your arses, it might be too late." She whirled and headed for the door. "Have a nice day, and bugger off."

Someone called her name, but she ignored it, just as she ignored the screaming of her great-aunt's portrait when she thundered down the stairs and slammed the front door.

"Tonks!"

"What!" she burst out, spinning around in the middle of the street. "What, Remus?"

He approached with a strained smile. "You're right, you know."

Expecting a reprimand, she was taken aback. "I am?"

He chuckled. "And you were so sure of yourself a moment ago. Yes, you're right. You're right that we're not doing enough. And you're probably right that Harry needs to be involved." Here he paused, as if searching for appropriate words. "But I suspect telling everyone to bugger off isn't the best way to get your point across."

She grinned. "Sorry. It slipped out. So what are we going to do about it?"

"The problem is that not everyone is like you, Tonks."

"Clumsy, loud, and fantastically gorgeous?"

"Precisely," he said with a touch of that dry humor he showed far too rarely. "Also, an Auror. You are born and bred to seek action and throw yourself headfirst into it. You're asking people to risk their lives."

"Isn't that why we joined the Order?"

"Of course, but what sounded so very noble in the beginning has become so very real over the last year. Give them time, and they'll come around." He hesitated. "I have to ask, what's going on with you and Dumbledore? I sensed some sort of undercurrent."

"Ah, your wolfie sense was tingling," she quipped. "You should probably talk to Harry about that."

"Somehow I knew it was about him."

Tonks looked at her friend almost pityingly. "You're very smart, Remus, I'm sure you can figure it out. You should talk to him, anyway, you know. He doesn't really have anyone else."

Remus frowned, brushing his hair away uncomfortably. "I've thought about that, but I don't want him to think I'm trying to be some replacement for his godfather."

"So be a friend. That's all he needs. He misses Sirius more than any of us." She put a hand on his shoulder, catching his eye. "Talk to Harry, Remus."

He gave her a penetrating look. "Do you and Harry spend a lot of time together?"

"Yes," she replied honestly, fighting down a flush.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

She smiled enigmatically before waving and heading for the apparition point. "Yeah, me, too," she muttered under her breath.

**oOo**

Harry brooded silently next to Professor McGonagall, who insisted on accompanying him to Gryffindor Tower, probably to make sure he actually went back. The meeting hadn't been a complete failure, he told himself. Some had appeared to actually agree with him, and perhaps they would appeal to Dumbledore. And he was reasonably sure they were getting an earful from Tonks at that very moment. Regardless, Harry didn't intend for this to be the end of the matter.

"Here we are, Potter," McGonagall said briskly when they arrived at the Fat Lady. "Do try to stay here for the night."

"Sure, Professor." Had she read his mind?

"Just a moment," she said as he gave the password. "There's still the matter of your punishment."

Harry gaped. "Punishment?"

She held up a hand. "No matter who accompanies you or if you have your guardian's permission, you cannot leave the castle whenever you feel like it. Had you come to me … but you didn't. Twenty points from Gryffindor and two detentions."

Harry made to protest but stopped himself. It wouldn't do any good. "Okay. Anything else?"

"No, that's all." As he climbed through the portrait hole, she spoke again. "I'm sorry it didn't work out the way you wished."

Harry made a beeline for his trunk, where he snatched his invisibility cloak and Marauder's Map. Settling into a chair near the fire, he surreptitiously checked the map for Tonks, but as he expected, she hadn't yet returned. Harry searched the common room. It wasn't terribly late, and students were still out, but he didn't spot a familiar head of bushy hair.

A dark-haired girl heading for the girls' tower caught his eye. "Parvati?"

She looked his way reluctantly. "Yes?"

"Have you seen Hermione?"

She glanced up the staircase. "She had a headache and went to bed early. Do you want me to get her for you?"

"No, it's fine. Tha–"

"See you, Harry."

"Parvati, wait, we're not –" But she was gone.

Harry slouched in his chair, trying to figure out how to repair his friendship with Parvati. Despite the discomfort their relationship had brought him, he had enjoyed getting to know her better, and he still very much wanted to be her friend. Nothing occurred to him besides waiting it out, and so as he continued to check the map for Tonks, he pondered McGonagall's words.

He had often thought of her as somewhat in Dumbledore's shadow – powerful in her own right, of course, but always on the side of the Headmaster. And though she hadn't said anything outright, it was the second time that term she had hinted that she may agree with Harry over Dumbledore. Very intriguing.

A dot labeled 'Nymphadora Tonks' appeared in her quarters at that moment, and dropping McGonagall from his mind, Harry sped out of Gryffindor Tower, ignoring Ritchie's warning that curfew was fifteen minutes away. If the Metamorphmagus was surprised to see him at her door, she didn't show it, waving her wand to shut the door behind him as she sprawled languidly on her bed.

"Anything happen after I left?" he asked, taking a seat in her desk chair.

"We had a bit of an argument, about you, about our lack of missions."

"I got the impression some are on our side."

"Some are. Hopefully we gave them something to think about. Power in numbers, yeah?"

"You've cooled down. I figured I'd find you pissed off and cursing."

She propped herself up on her elbows, offering Harry a knowing grin. "My temper generally leaves as fast as it comes. Out of the two of us, I assumed you would be angrier. I flare out much more quickly than you."

He shrugged. "I told you beforehand I didn't expect much. It occurred to me that losing my temper wouldn't help any."

"Ah, I hate it when you're the mature one. Embarrassing, that is."

He smiled briefly before lapsing into a contemplative silence. Harry wanted to defeat Voldemort. Dumbledore wanted to defeat Voldemort. The Order wanted to defeat Voldemort. Hell, the Ministry wanted to defeat Voldemort. How was it that four different people, or groups of people, could have the same goal yet none could agree on how to reach it? To Harry, it seemed simple (though admittedly much harder than it sounded aloud): Voldemort had to be killed. Right?

Harry absentmindedly reached up to adjust his glasses when he had the feeling that he was being watched. Looking up, he saw that Tonks was studying him, her chin in her hands and an affectionate smile on her face.

"You're cute when you brood," she said in a cheerful tone when their eyes met.

He looked away, trying unsuccessfully to hide a pleased smile. "Am I?"

"Oh please, like no one's ever told you you're cute before. But keep creasing your forehead like that and you'll get wrinkles. What are you thinking so hard about?"

"The Order."

"Yeah, me too." She trailed off, staring into space before sitting up on her knees. "Want to see something? Come here."

When Harry approached her bed, she tugged down one side of her trousers, revealing a rather large area of bare hip. Harry stared at the exposed skin, completely losing the power of speech.

"A flash of skin and you're gawking like a horny teenage boy. You'd see much more if I was in a bikini," Tonks told him, swatting his head playfully. "See it?"

He blinked, willing away his mental image, and then realized there was something emblazoned on the enticing area. "That's a tattoo. A … phoenix?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, returning her trousers to their proper position while the red and gold bird flew around gracefully. "A bunch of us got one when we first joined."

"Wicked," he said. He liked the idea of everyone having a physical representation of a common cause. Something to bind them together forever. "Who?"

"Me, Bill, Charlie, Hestia, Sirius, Kingsley, and Sturgis. The twins now, too. And Remus."

"Lupin has a tattoo?" he repeated in disbelief. "Are you taking the piss?"

"Cross my heart. It took a lot of begging and a few shots of firewhiskey, but he submitted in the end."

"Cool. I like it."

"Yeah? I figured joining the Order and taking a stand against Voldemort might be the most important thing I ever do with my life. It was Sirius's idea, actually. He said we'll always have something to remember those we lose." Her voice dropped. "How right he was."

"Sirius thought I should be in the Order." Harry fidgeted with his wand, dropping his gaze to the floor. "It's still weird, not getting letters, being at Grimmauld Place without him. I miss him."

"I know, Harry." Tonks reached out and took his hand. "I know you do."


	11. Doubt

**Doubt**

The following day Professor Slughorn asked Harry, Hermione, and Blaise Zabini, a tall, aloof Slytherin, to stay after Potions.

"I'd like you to come to a little get-together I'm having before the Christmas holiday," he said jovially. "Just a small gathering of friends, really, with a few special guests. Gwenog Jones, the Weird Sisters … and you're welcome to bring dates." He beamed at Harry. "Harry, m'boy, you've missed all my parties so far, but never fear, I checked with Professor McGonagall, and she assured me your schedule was clear."

"I'll be sure to thank her, sir," Harry lied, forcing a smile.

He had deliberately avoided Slughorn's gatherings of those students he considered well-connected, talented, or, in the case of Harry, simply famous, commonly dubbed the 'Slug Club.' Though Harry's potions had decreased in quality since he had given up his edited textbook, Slughorn still treated him as a favorite. Harry did occasionally remember bits and pieces from the book, such as crushing beans instead of cutting to release more juice, and his potions weren't half-bad.

"The night before term ends!" Slughorn called as the three left the classroom. "Eight o'clock sharp, and wear your very best!"

Zabini quickly disappeared, and Harry and Hermione were left to stroll to lunch by themselves.

"Do you think we have to bring a date?" Harry asked gloomily, recalling the dismal experience of getting a girl alone before the Yule Ball. He didn't even have anyone he wanted to bring, except –

"No, I'm sure we don't," Hermione replied. "His parties are actually very interesting, Harry. He's quite well-connected, you know. But you should find someone."

"Why? I'd rather go alone."

"Do you remember all the girls who showed up for the Quidditch tryouts?"

"Right." Harry scowled, but she was right; if he didn't find a date, one would be sure to find him, and not necessarily a welcome one. He cast a sidelong glance at his friend as a thought presented itself. "Hey, Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to go to Slughorn's party with me?"

She looked startled. "Me?"

He looked around. "You're the only Hermione I see in this corridor." Harry shrugged. "I won't be gutted if there's someone else you'd rather go with. I only thought since we're both going …"

"Oh. Um, sure, Harry, we can go together. It will be fun, and I hadn't anyone else in mind." She grinned. "You realize this is only going to increase the gossip about us."

"I don't care if you don't."

"Not really, no."

Harry thought about the special guests Slughorn had mentioned. "Hermione, do you think Tonks is invited?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"No reason."

**oOo**

Tonks rolled her shoulders, beginning another midnight rendezvous in the Room of Requirement. "What I want you to do tonight is cast a shield and maintain it for as long as you can while at the same time following me and rebounding my spells in the direction I call."

"Until when?"

"Until it breaks. And then we do it again. You have good shields, but you need more stamina." She winked suggestively. "Ladies love stamina."

Harry chuckled, but inwardly he groaned. This sounded like he was going to spend the rest of the night being flung backward.

And that was pretty much how it went. After a constant cadence of directions, Harry's shields inevitably collapsed, and he was helpless against whatever spells she used, which fortunately weren't too harsh. Harry didn't know how many times his shields shattered, but it seemed like hours had passed by the time he didn't have a drop of energy left.

"Again," Tonks ordered as he stood up for the umpteenth time.

Harry ran a hand over his hair, sighing. Every bone in his body ached. "Tonks, I am completely worn out. I had a long day, and it must be two in the morning by now. We have to call it a night."

"No," she said simply. "Do it again."

Her imperious tone annoyed him. "I don't want to," he told her, setting his jaw stubbornly.

Her eyes widened at his resistance, and she took a step closer. "Do. It. Again. Now."

"I said no." Harry matched her glare. "Who are you to tell me what to do?"

Her eyebrows shot into her pink hair. "When I agreed to this scheme of yours, you promised to do as I say. So do it, and quit acting like a moody adolescent. It's not becoming."

"Quit acting like a superior bitch. It's not becoming," he retorted.

Tonks's eyes flashed, and Harry had one brief moment of _oh crap_ before she launched into him. "Listen here, Potter. You think I don't have anything better to do than train you? You think this is the highlight of my day? I could be having a drink! I could be flirting with a cute bloke! I could be asleep! You think you're worn out? Join the freaking club! No one is paying me to deal with endless loads of teenage snark and bad attitude!"

"Tonks –"

"Oh, I'm Harry Potter! I'm the bloody Chosen One! I have 'brood' stamped on my nice little arse! I stomp around all damn day long and glare at everyone so much that my name ought to be Heathcliff! I've a nancy-boy Dark Lord obsessing over my every move! I'm just going to whine all day long about no one helping me! And then, when one person takes time out of her nights which are already too short as it is to give me a hand, I'm going to yell at her!"

She was ranting and raving, waving her hands like a maniac, and all Harry could do was stare, retreating from the index finger that kept poking his chest. Her eyes were ablaze and her cheeks were flushed and her hair danced around her head like a cotton candy-flavored halo, and then she actually stamped her foot on the ground.

It was the most amazing sight to behold.

"Oh boo-fucking-hoo! Mr. Boy-Who-Lived! Mr. I had my destiny picked out for me when I was still in nappies! Mr. my parents died for me! If you think I'm going to let you throw away that sort of sacrifice because you're tired, then you need to grow the fuck up, Potter! You think Sirius died so you could get some sleep? I already lost him, I won't lose you, too!"

"Tonks –"

"Yeah, your life sucks! No, no one knows what it's like! We all understand that! Get over it already! You think the prophecy is the end-all and be-all of your existence? It's not an Unbreakable Vow! If you want to move to an island in the Mediterranean and sip mojitos on the beach by day, shag olive-skinned tarts by night, go ahead! I won't stop you! But until that point, you will listen to me, damn it! You convinced me to help you, convinced me that my training would give you a fighting chance, so I am going to see this through to the bitter end and so help me, Potter, if you do not –"

Impulsively, Harry grabbed her face in his hands and crashed his lips against hers. The force of his kiss carried him forward, and he stumbled against Tonks as she clenched his forearms, threatening to topple to the floor. Incredibly, he felt her mouth respond to him, one hand creeping into his hair, lips opening as a whimper sounded from the back of her throat –

And then they parted and Harry's heart was racing and Tonks's chest was rapidly rising and falling, and they simply stared at each other, eyes wide, his a panicked green, hers a surprised grey.

Tonks raised one hand to her lips, mouthing something Harry couldn't make out. "Why did you do that?" she asked, her tone more curious than anything.

"I couldn't help myself," he replied honestly, just as surprised as she was.

Tonks nodded as if it made complete sense. "I see that." In an abrupt movement she hastily walked to her bag and crouched down, her back to Harry, who remained motionless. "Are you planning on doing it again?"

"Yes."

Her shoulders slumped into an oddly defeatist position. She continued to fumble through her bag in silence. "I don't know if that's a good idea," she finally said quietly.

Harry's stomach lurched, but he ignored it as he moved closer. "Why not?"

"Don't you think I'm too old for you?" she asked, shouldering her bag as she stood and gave Harry a bottle of water and a muffin, avoiding his eyes.

"No," he said frankly. "In the grand scheme of things, is six years really all that much?"

Tonks flicked her hand impatiently as if swatting at a bothersome insect. "I do wish you were out of school," she muttered.

They departed, though Harry didn't disappear under the invisibility cloak like he normally did. He watched Tonks openly, remembering the taste of cherry-flavored lips beneath his, imagining pulling her close again, touching that pink hair. He felt like he'd been waiting for that moment for a very long time.

When Tonks finished her own water and replaced the bottle in her bag, Harry reached out and entwined their hands. She had marvelously long fingers, and they complemented Harry's in a way Parvati or Cho never had.

She slowed to a stop, though she didn't pull her hand away, and she looked at him, pensive. "You don't know what you're getting into, Harry. I'm shite at the girlfriend thing, quite awful really, and I – I have, you know, issues," she said in a forced manner, like the words emerged against her will. "You don't want me."

Harry shook his head, sending a spare lock of hair into his eyes. "Don't do that, Tonks. Don't tell me what I want like everyone else does. You're better than that. I want to kiss you, not proclaim my everlasting love and ride off into the sunset. And everyone has issues. You think I don't?"

"Oh, I know you have issues," she said, and he was relieved to hear her normal playfulness. "You're probably so fucked up in the head, you're going to snap one day and kill us all. End up the next Dark Lord."

"I'd spare you. Care to be my right-hand woman?"

"Don't know if I can pull off the necessary evil cackle, but hell, if you're a Dark Lord, I'll be a Dark Lord." She tilted her head contemplatively as they resumed their walk, still hand in hand. "Though I suppose I'd be a Dark Lady, not a lord. Dark Lady Tonks. Oh no, that won't work at all. I need a properly menacing name."

"I don't think I'm quite to the point of snapping yet, so we have time." Harry smiled. "See how well we work together?"

She returned the smile. "I know you like me, Harry. You're adorably obvious."

"So much for playing it cool."

"Oh, I can always tell. A lot of men think they like me," she continued. "Being fairly attractive with the ever-enticing possibility of becoming even more attractive, I'm pretty much anyone's type, and not in the slutty way. But I think you have me up on some sort of pedestal, like I'm perfect."

"I know you aren't perfect. Your nose is off-center."

She pulled her hand away with a gasp of outrage. "My nose is not off-center! I'm a Metamorphmagus. I have perfect features."

"Whatever you say," he teased before eying her speculatively. "Tonks, what –"

"Merlin. We're going to have that conversation now, aren't we?"

"What conversation?"

She rolled her eyes. "The one I have with every single person I meet. Where you ask me what I really look like, and, if you're trying to get into my pants, you tell me that my 'natural form' is a thousand times prettier than anything I could ever morph to." She shrugged. "It's complete bullshit. Like I said, I'm a Metamorphmagus. I ought to look like bloody Christy Turlington all the time, but I'm too lazy."

They spent the next few meters in silence until Tonks came to a stop with a resigned sigh. After casting a careful eye over the Marauder's Map, she increased the light emanating from her wand. And then she screwed up her face, sending a ripple across her body.

It was the eyes Harry sought first, but they stayed the same stormy grey that was always so familiar. Her skin lost its tan, and her features grew slightly more defined as if being brought into focus. The short pink bob darkened to a mousy brown, tumbling in loose curls down her back. When he took her all in, not very different from the Tonks he was used to, it finally clicked.

"You look like Sirius," he realized aloud, zeroing in on her eyes again. Sirius's eyes.

"And Mum, and Bellatrix, and Narcissa, and Draco, and Regulus from what I've heard," she said with a resigned smile. "Strong, the Black genes are."

"And this?" he asked, tentatively tracing a distinctive scar shaped like an upside-down L next to her left eyebrow. Tonks took a sudden breath at his touch.

"That's nothing," she claimed, resuming her old look with a flip of her head. "Forget about it."

"Why do you change?"

"Why not?" she countered. "We all have things we don't like about our appearance, and over the years I've settled on a look I think suits me better."

Harry didn't exactly agree. Her appearance didn't fit the loud, teasing, clumsy aspects of her personality, but with some parts – her flashes of temper, the set of her mouth when things didn't go her way – were a perfect match.

"Nothing major," she continued. "A nip here, a tuck there, a tan so I don't look like a ghost. And of course sometimes the girls need a bit of a pick me up."

"Er, what?"

"Perky tits, Harry," she said matter-of-factly, and Harry immediately started walking again, staring straight ahead determinedly. She caught up, laughing. "Look at you, trying not to peek."

"So do you always keep that appearance?" he asked in a rather loud voice.

"I had trouble maintaining when I was younger, but ever since Hogwarts I can keep a change for as long as I want. Except for those times when I, ah, lose control."

Harry didn't know what she meant by that, but he still wasn't quite ready to look at her, so nothing was said for some time.

"Sorry for calling you a bitch," he blurted out when the silence became loud.

She squeezed his hand, and Harry kept his grip when she made to pull away. "S'alright, babe. Wouldn't be the first time, and nine times out of ten I take it as a compliment. Think of how many times I've called you a name. Shite, I called you a bitch just last week. And sorry for yelling at you."

"It's fine." He gave her a sly glance. "I kind of like it when you're bossy."

"Clearly," she said effusively, and both laughed.

Tonks spoke suddenly again as their trip came to an end. "You could have nearly any girl in this castle, you know."

"They're nothing like you."

"How so? Because I'm older? Colorful? Experienced?"

"Not at all. You're so … easy, Tonks," he tried to explain.

She raised her eyebrows. "For future reference, babe, if you're trying to pull a girl, you ought not to call her easy," she said dryly.

Harry grinned. "That's not what I mean and you know it. You're easy to talk to, easy to laugh with, easy to be around. In fact the only thing not easy is getting you to admit that you want to kiss again as much as I do."

"Oh, _now_ you get confident."

"What are you so afraid of?"

She dropped his intense gaze after a few seconds, and triumph surged in Harry's chest. "I'm not afraid of anything," she muttered.

He seized the opportunity, stepping forward and curving a hand around her neck. Her skin was on fire under his palm. "So there's no problem."

Now she grinned, retreating. "Oh? So if I say thee nay, thou wilt woo?"

"I have no idea what you just said," Harry told her. "Where do you come up with this stuff?"

"It's Shakespeare, babe."

"You read Shakespeare?" he said, skeptical.

Tonks tossed her head haughtily. "I read all sorts of things. And I was asking if you're planning to woo me, Harry."

He followed. "Do you want to be wooed?" he said, having only the vaguest idea of what that entailed.

Tonks clicked her tongue, her smile in full spread. "Never ask a woman that. If you're going to woo, you ought to be sure she wants it."

"I think you do," Harry said in a low voice, continuing to follow Tonks until she backed into the wall. He bent his head toward her ear. "I think you liked kissing me."

She took a visible breath, her mouth working several times before any words came out. "I think you should go to bed."

"I think we should kiss again."

She slipped under his arm in one fluid motion, backpedaling away from the Fat Lady. "Not now, Harry."

"But later?" he called, joyful despite her supposed rejection.

"Goodnight, Harry!"

"That's not a no!"

Her laugh echoed through the corridor as she disappeared from sight, and Harry felt like whistling as he climbed through the portrait hole. Having not quite sorted out his feelings for Tonks, the kiss had been anything but planned, and even though her reaction wasn't perfect, he didn't really want to change anything. And if she wanted to be wooed, he could do that.

He hoped so, anyway.

**oOo**

On Saturday morning Harry made sure to sit on the end of the Gryffindor table near the staff table. He ate as slowly as he could without making himself late for Quidditch practice, not wanting to miss owl post. On one of his many glances at a certain Auror seated next to Professor Trelawny, whom she seemed to be determinedly avoiding, Tonks caught his eye and gave him a cheery smile.

"You have to get me with her," Seamus urged Harry, noticing the exchange. "How'd you manage to become mates anyway?"

"We've known each other for a long time," replied Harry, suppressing a flare of irritation. Seamus did all but drool when Tonks was around. "Ever since she was a student herself."

"What makes you think you'd stand any sort of chance, Seamus?" Dean asked derisively. "Reckon she doesn't have any better prospects, would rather spend her time with a titch of a schoolboy than an adult wizard?"

"Aye, I bet she gets right lonely, all alone in the castle. She'd welcome a wee bit of Irish luck in her." Seamus grinned lecherously, and Harry tightened his grip on his goblet.

Lavender made a noise of disgust. "'Wee' would be correct."

"Like you would know. Not for lack of trying."

"Oi," Ron warned from Lavender's other side.

"Don't worry, Won-Won," she assured her boyfriend, causing his face to turn red as the others sniggered at his nickname. "There's a reason we never went out again after the Yule Ball. A very small reason."

It was Seamus's turn to flush, and with a visible effort he ignored Lavender and returned his attention to Harry. "What do ya say, mate? Get me an in?"

"No," he said curtly. Though he was on his sixth year of rooming with them and well used to often boastful girl talk, this was the first time the lewd talk had turned to someone Harry was interested in, except the one time they probed Harry for nonexistent details about Cho.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you want her for yourself," Seamus retorted jokingly.

Harry managed a sardonic smile. "Sod off, Seamus," he said, catching a glimpse of Parvati's suspicious face.

Seamus's response was lost in the characteristic ruffle of feathers that heralded owl post. Hedwig made one of her rare appearances without a letter, visiting Harry to nip his arm affectionately and eat a bit of his toast, but it was a barn owl headed for the staff table that Harry watched.

"Ruddy bird!" he exclaimed suddenly when what looked like a limp feather duster crashed into the jug of pumpkin juice, showering everyone nearby with orange liquid. Harry fished out Errol, the Weasleys' ancient owl, and passed it to Ginny while Hermione cleaned the mess with a wave of her wand.

"I think you're too late, mate," Dean told Seamus, pointing at Tonks, and Harry returned his attention to her.

With a curious expression, she relieved the waiting owl of its package, tearing it open with apparent interest. She examined the box of Honeyduke's fudge for a moment before turning to the accompanying note. A tinge of pink flashed on her cheeks as a pleased smile spread across her face. Before she could do anything else another owl alighted on her goblet, screeching loudly. Tonks read its letter hurriedly, her eyes widening with concern. In a sudden movement, she shot out of her chair, shoving the package of chocolate into her bag haphazardly as she quickly left the Great Hall, earning the stares of many students on her way.

Though highly intrigued about her sudden departure, Harry put her out of his mind while he made his way to the Quidditch pitch for practice. His team had maintained their high level of play after defeating Slytherin, and Harry felt sure they would extend their winning streak in their March match against Hufflepuff despite having to replace still-absent Katie Bell with reserve Gavin Davies.

Tonks had been rather tight-lipped about Katie, only saying that releasing someone from the Imperius curse was a difficult process that took time. With any luck, Katie would be able to tell them what happened once she returned to her senses.

Harry retrieved his Firebolt (now protected by more than c_olloportus_) and walked onto the pitch. Jimmy and Ritchie were already in the air, goofing around and divebombing each other.

"Can you make this a quick practice?" Demelza called, shivering. "It's bloody freezing out here. All the other teams have canceled practice until next term."

"Which is why we're going to win the Cup," replied Harry. "Here." He cast a warming charm over Demelza and her broom. "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks!"

Harry cast the same charm on himself, deciding to shorten practice to a quick scrimmage anyway. Warming charms didn't last forever, and with only one week left in the term no one would be concentrating on Quidditch.

"Harry, can I talk to you?"

Harry turned around to find a pensive Ginny behind him. "Sure, Ginny. What is it?"

She held a letter in her hands. He noticed Ron standing a few feet behind his sister, as if he'd accompanied her but didn't want to get too close to Harry.

"Did you really leave school and go to an Order meeting?" Ginny asked in a low voice.

"I – yeah, I did. How do you know about that?"

She waved the envelope. "Mum owled us. She's concerned about you."

A tendril of annoyance began to wind around Harry. "Is she? Why?"

"She said that you didn't even have permission to attend, that you and Tonks had some sort of secret agreement for her to bring you, that you nearly argued with Dumbledore, and that Tonks ended up in a row with the entire Order."

"All true, but I don't see why she's telling you this."

"She's just worried, Harry."

"Worried? About what? Worried about my safety? Surely not. I'm here under Dumbledore's watchful eye, aren't I? Or is she worried that I'm not sitting back being a good boy while the adults take care of everything?"

Ginny's face reddened, but it was Ron who spoke up. "Don't yell at my sister, and don't have a go at my mother."

"I don't need your help, Ron!" Ginny snapped. "Harry, you're being ridiculous. Mum has always cared about you. She wants you to come for Christmas."

"Thanks, but I don't think I should," Harry blurted out impulsively. As much as he knew Molly Weasley had good intentions, he couldn't bear the thought of her or Arthur trying to talk him back into Dumbledore's corner, and he didn't trust himself not to say something rude to the people who had been so nice to him. Not to mention the awkwardness of spending two weeks with Ron.

"What?" Ginny asked incredulously. "You've always spent Christmas with us."

"It's just not a good idea this year."

"Are you going to stay here?"

"I'll figure something out."

Ginny started to argue, but Ron grabbed her arm, sending Harry a dark look. "Drop it, Gin. He's made up his mind like he always does."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Harry demanded, dropping his broom on the ground.

"It means you get an idea in your head and you cling to it like it's your last hope. Like Snape after the Philosopher's Stone or Malfoy as the Heir of Slytherin."

"Which you believed, too!" Harry argued furiously.

"Yeah, but I'm not twelve anymore. How many times have you nearly died? The difference between you and me is that you still think you're always right. Malfoy's a Death Eater. Dumbledore doesn't care what happens to you. And no one can tell you any different." Ron's mouth twisted in an ugly smile. "No one except Tonks, anyway. What does she have that no one else has?"

Harry was aware that the entire Quidditch team had gathered around, jaws hanging, but he didn't care. "What does she have?" he repeated. "How about my back? How about a little faith in me? Don't turn this into something it isn't."

"I'm just curious," Ron said in a mocking tone. "Because it looks like you went from listening to whatever Dumbledore said to listening to whatever Tonks says, and the only thing I can reckon is that Tonks has a cheeky wink and a nice arse."

Harry wasn't aware of pulling his wand, but suddenly Ron was several yards away on the ground, holding a hand to his stomach and cursing. Boiling with anger and his scar searing, Harry took a step forward, but his progress was blocked by Ginny's wand in his face.

"Leave him," she warned, her face blazing.

Ron got to his feet, glaring at Harry. "You've changed, Harry. Tonks may like it, but I sure as hell don't."

"Ron? Ron!" Ginny called as he stalked away. "We have practice!"

He spun around on his heel, staring Harry directly in the eye. "I quit."

**oOo**

Curtains drawn across his four-poster, Harry pretended to be asleep when the other boys went to bed that night. In truth he lay staring at the ceiling long into the night.

He had cut practice short after a half-hearted scrimmage in which the other players regarded him with wary eyes. Ginny was furious, refusing to even look at him. Harry stayed in the shower until his fingers wrinkled, hoping the warm water would clear his head. It didn't work.

How had he let his temper get so out of hand? He would never in a million years imagine hurting Ron, no matter what words passed between them, and yet there they were, Ron on the ground and Harry's wand pointing at him, shaking. It was an irrevocable move, and Harry knew that even if they managed to patch up their differences, their friendship would never be the same.

Harry had skipped dinner and hid inside the Room of Requirement, pushing himself through a workout far more punishing than Tonks ever devised. He nonverbally cast every single spell he could think of, and when his repertoire ended, he clumsily animated one of the wooden training dummies and spent hours blasting it into pieces before repairing it and starting over. Though curious about her departure, he was supremely glad for once that Tonks wasn't around.

He was right, he knew he was. Malfoy was a Death Eater. Dumbledore wasn't doing anything to help him. But why was Tonks so willing to believe him? And why had he been so eager to trust her? Had she merely told him what he wanted to hear? Was it pure relief and gratitude that pulled them together? Or was it merely his attraction to Tonks that made him believe she was on his side? What really had gone on after he left the Order meeting? It was this that kept Harry awake far past the point when his roommates' snores filled the room.

What if Ron was right?

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> On Saturday I'm moving halfway across the country, & so this story is going on a brief hiatus while I get settled. I've planned for this & have written through chapter 15, but I'll still have several weeks without internet or the time to update. So no worries if I go longer than usual between updates! Just a heads up.


	12. Eavesdrop

**Author's Note: **And I'm back! Sorry for the long wait. Moving is such a pain. I swear I'm never doing it again. I hope to resume regular updates from now on.

* * *

><p><strong>Eavesdrop<strong>

Harry woke up the following day determined to move on from his confrontation with Ron. Malfoy _was_ up to something; Harry was positive about that. Tonks had given him no reason to question her motives, and at the end of the day there was magnetism between them that had nothing to do with Draco Malfoy, Albus Dumbledore, or anything else beyond their own feelings. He would apologize to Ron for hexing him and that would be that. However, despite his resolve, he couldn't help but feel relieved when he pulled back the curtains around his bed to find Ron had already departed.

The lack of her presence at breakfast meant that the Auror still hadn't returned, but Harry had learned from his previous experience not to dwell on it. Gossip about what happened on the Quidditch pitch had spread, and he soon fled the questioning eyes. Everyone looked at him like he was about to explode.

Hermione caught up with him on the Grand Staircase. "Harry!"

He slowed but didn't look at her, knowing what was coming. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Did you really hex Ron?"

"Yes, Hermione."

"How could you do that, Harry? You could have hurt him!"

"Yes, Hermione."

She sent him a glare. "Stop humoring me. I'm serious."

Both automatically jumped over a trick step. "So am I. No one regrets it more than me. I wish I could explain it, but I can't."

"What do you mean, you wish you could explain it?"

Harry ducked through a tapestry into one of the secret passageways, hoping for some privacy. "I just lost it, Hermione. It's like something came over me. I was so angry, and my scar hurt, and –"

"Your scar hurt?" she interrupted, eyebrows raised. "Harry –"

"It's nothing. Like the time it hurt when I was in detention with Umbridge. Just a coincidence." She opened her mouth to object, but Harry gave her a look. "Drop it. The point is that I wanted to take it back the instant it happened. As soon as I know I'm safe from Ginny's bat-bogey hex, I'll apologize."

"What did he say that upset you so much?" she asked tentatively.

Harry was not prepared to talk about that. "It doesn't matter, it's over. Hey, do you want to go see Hagrid?"

Not having seen their half-giant friend very often that term, she readily agreed, and they spent the morning in Hagrid's cozy cabin, venturing into the Forbidden Forest to help him feed the herd of thestrals. Fortunately Hagrid hadn't heard of Harry and Ron's latest encounter, only that they'd had a row, and aside from a few well-meaning and completely transparent hints about mending fences, he didn't mention the missing member of the trio. After forcing down a few stoat sandwiches to avoid hurting Hagrid's feelings, they trudged through the lightly falling snow to return to the castle for the last study group of the term.

Harry was busy with homework all afternoon, the teachers working them until the last minute, but when he noticed Parvati jab at an essay in despair, he set down his quill. Standing, he maneuvered past the other chairs to stand behind her. "Anything I can do to help?"

Parvati glanced at him for a long moment before conceding. "You are the best in the class," she admitted in a quiet voice. "It's Snape's homework on the Cruciatus …"

A quarter of an hour later, Harry had succeeded in not only helping her finish her homework, but, he hoped, repairing their friendship. She even gave him a small smile when he walked away. He still had Transfiguration notes to go through, but a few minutes after he sat down, he was distracted by a guest in the library, a figure topped with bright turquoise hair.

Tonks spoke with Madam Pince for a moment, smiling beguilingly before the librarian jerked her head in an irritable nod. The Auror vaulted over the rope that barred students access to the Restricted Section, to the outraged gasp of Madam Pince and sniggers of watching students. She reappeared a few minutes later, tucking some large books into her bag. As if she felt his gaze on her, Tonks flashed a quick grin at Harry before exiting the library.

Unable to concentrate after that, Harry called it a day and packed his bag, followed by Neville and Hermione. Their conversation quickly turned to Draco Malfoy, who had so far proved too slippery to pin down.

"… and she swears he's not there," Harry finished. "I don't understand. The map's never been wrong. Not about Crouch, not about Wormtail."

"Maybe she's just missing him," Neville offered, though he looked perplexed at the names Harry mentioned. "Or maybe he's leaving the castle."

"We've been over this. He can't leave the castle," Hermione objected impatiently.

They had been over it, countless times, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling they were missing something. "He's here somewhere, I know it. And his … target or whatever, that's in the castle, too, because Katie was trying to bring the necklace to someone inside Hogwarts."

"But who? And where?" Hermione asked to dead silence.

"Wotcher!"

"Tonks!" Hermione exclaimed as the Auror popped up out of nowhere, falling into step between Neville and Harry as she threw an arm over their shoulders. "Where did you come from?"

"I was hanging about, hoping you'd leave soon. Wanted to see my favorite Gryffindors, didn't I?" She gave them an exceptionally broad smile. "What are you discussing so furtively? Surely you're not planning any rule-breaking, Miss Prefect."

Harry laughed, not only at Hermione's ruffled look but also at Neville's expression of panic at the arm she had around him. "About the map and, well, you know," he explained, trying to be discreet.

She nodded. "Ah, the _other_ You-Know-Who. Yeah, it doesn't make any sense. He has to be there somewhere, but I'm telling you, I've gone over the map a thousand times and sometimes he's not bloody there. And I can't follow him all the time."

"Can't apparate, can't Floo, can't walk or fly away," Harry said in frustration. "The map doesn't recognize Polyjuice, invisibility cloaks, or any other form of disguise. Where the – oh, hi, Luna."

The blonde girl who had just crossed their paths smiled serenely. "Hello, Harry, Hermione, Neville. Hello, Auror Tonks."

"Hello," Tonks replied pleasantly, somewhat surprised. "Just Tonks, please. Have we met?"

"No, but Ginny told me who you were at the Ministry of Magic last year. Thank you for saving us."

"Oh, um, all in a day's work, right?"

"Of course." Luna turned her slightly protuberant eyes to Harry. "You look rather distracted, Harry. Is it the Wrackspurts again?"

"Possibly," he replied, well used to her unusual beliefs. "Can Wrackspurts find a place in the castle where someone could hide without any detection?"

"No, but are you talking about the Room of Requirement, where the DA met last year?"

They gaped at the Ravenclaw. Of course! Harry mentally berated himself. It was right in front of them the entire time; he and Tonks spent several nights a week in the Room of Requirement. The perfect place to hide, and who was to say it couldn't be taken off the map if needed? He didn't even know if his father and associates, the makers of the map, had ever discovered the room.

"Luna, you are _brilliant,_" Harry finally said.

She smiled. "Thank you. I'm glad I could help. I have to go now; Ginny and I are to meet to study Potions. Have a happy Christmas."

"You, too," they echoed as she walked away.

"Odd bird," Tonks commented. "She's not wearing shoes."

"Maybe the Nargles stole them," Hermione muttered.

"Don't ask," Harry said before Tonks could. "It's just ... Luna. Odd or not, she figured out something none of us did. It must be the Room of Requirement."

"Now we have to get inside while he is," Hermione said dryly. "Should be easy."

"That's the spirit," Tonks agreed cheerfully.

"You're in a frightfully good mood," said Harry.

"You would be, too, if you were me," she said. "I just returned from the Ministry. My leave was approved; I'm out of this castle until you lot return in January. The others down in Hogsmeade will take shifts covering for me."

Harry's mood plummeted. The one thing that had kept his spirits up about staying at Hogwarts over Christmas was that Tonks would surely be there, too. Now it seemed that she, along with nearly everyone else, would be gone and he would spend the holidays alone.

"That's great, Tonks," said Hermione. "Is that why you left so suddenly yesterday?"

"No, it's not. Just some work is all," she said. Harry gave her a hard look, but she turned away. "Reckon I gave you a start, tearing out of there like I did. I don't know why I was in such a hurry; had it been an emergency, I would have been summoned." She fished out the medallion around her neck, holding it up for their inspection.

"What is that?" Hermione asked interestedly, taking it from Tonks's hand and examining it despite the fact that it was still attached to the Auror.

"A prototype. We combined protean and _portus_ charms. If I need my team immediately, I activate it. It vibrates and turns warm, and a tap of your wand takes you where you need to go."

"Amazing," Hermione murmured. "You said it's still under development?"

"Yeah, I helped design it," Tonks said proudly. "Much better than Floo-calls. It's been provisionally approved by the Ministry Committee on Experimental Spells and Devices, so now we're the guinea pigs. Once it passes testing, the entire office will have them, and others as well."

"Does that mean it doesn't always work?" Neville asked.

"No, not – " Tonks looked at Neville like she was seeing him for the first time. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Neville Longbottom," he mumbled.

"Longbottom," she repeated, her eyes lighting up in recognition. "Delighted to meet you, Nev. No, it doesn't always work. Once I ended up in the middle of a flock of sheep in Cumbria, which is definitely not a back alley in Leeds. I don't know who was more confused. So we're still sorting out the kinks." She gave the medallion a rather forceful tug, prying it out of Hermione's eager hands. "Anyway, I have some work to do, so I'll say goodbye."

After she left, Harry spirited Hermione and Neville to the covered bridge outside the Clock Tower, casting _Muffliato_, a handy spell from his old Potions text that placed a buzzing in the ears of anyone nearby,as an extra precaution. The light snow had turned into a biting wind, and they huddled together.

"Malfoy's doing something inside the Room of Requirement, and he uses Crabbe and Goyle to make sure no one gets in while he's there," he said triumphantly. "All we need to do is get inside."

"How? We don't know what he needs the room for, and, er, I don't fancy going against Crabbe and Goyle," Neville said.

"We don't have to. Hermione, do you remember second year? The last time we needed information from Malfoy?"

Her brown eyes lit up. "Of course! But we'll have to steal the ingredients, and it takes at least a month to make, and –"

"We don't need to make it," Harry interjected. "I know where I can get some."

**oOo**

On Tuesday Professor McGonagall summoned Harry to her desk at the end of class. "Potter, an official from the Ministry of Magic wishes to meet with you tonight," she told him, giving him a sharp look.

"The Ministry? Why?" Harry said in alarm.

"I hoped you would be able to tell me that. If you wish, I can send them away. They can't force you to speak with them."

"No, it's fine," Harry said slowly, his curiosity piqued.

"Very well. You may use my office, half past eight." She reeked of disapproval. "I haven't any idea what this is about, but I suggest you tread lightly where the Ministry is concerned." He nodded, shouldering his bag to leave. "One more thing, Potter. Professor Dumbledore wants to see you after your meeting with the Ministry official."

"Why?"

"I'm merely the messenger. If I had to guess, I'd say the two meetings are related. He'll be in his office; the password is 'lemon drop.'"

After a late dinner, Harry pushed open McGonagall's door with some trepidation. An impeccably dressed man sat in front of her desk. He rose when Harry entered, giving his hand one firm shake.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. I'm Sanjay Bansal, Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic," he said in a clipped yet polite voice. His dark eyes reminded Harry of Parvati.

"Hello," Harry said awkwardly, taking the empty seat next to him. "Do you work with Percy Weasley?"

"I do. Mr. Potter, do you recall your conversation with Head Auror Gawain Robards during your visit to the Ministry of Magic last month?"

Taken aback by his no-nonsense attitude, Harry nodded. "Yes, I think so."

"You indicated that you'd be willing to lend public support to the Ministry."

"If I agree with what you want to do," Harry qualified, now fully remembering his discussion. He had no idea it would actually lead to something.

"Of course." Sanjay withdrew a roll of parchment from a black leather briefcase and handed it to him. "This is proposed legislation the Department of Magical Law Enforcement wishes to pass through the Wizengamot. Allow me to summarize it for you. Are you familiar with Veritaserum?"

"Yes."

"The use of truth serum is highly controlled by the Ministry, of course. In practice, only Aurors and DMLE patrol squads are allowed to use it." _Someone ought to inform Dolores Umbridge_, Harry thought, but he stayed quiet. "Unfortunately, the current law prohibits its application unless the suspect voluntarily submits. I'm sure you can see the problem – any guilty suspect would refuse, thus removing one of our tools for justice."

Sanjay paused, and feeling like it was his turn to speak, Harry said, "Okay."

Apparently that was satisfactory. "Therefore we have drawn up legislation to change the regulations and allow our law enforcement officials to administer Veritaserum at their discretion. Not, of course, without due cause."

"Okay."

"What we would like from you is a show of support to rally public opinion before we present it to the Wizengamot."

"Oh." Harry suddenly felt very uncomfortable. All he'd really wanted when he talked to Scrimgeour and Robards was for the Ministry to step up their game without harming innocent people. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Veritaserum would have been an immense help in Umbridge's trial, not to mention Harry's own trial for underage magic. "Well, okay, but –"

"We've scheduled a press conference that coincides with your Christmas holiday to save you the trouble of having to leave school," Sanjay interrupted smoothly. "All we desire is your presence, and perhaps a statement lending your support if the media asks."

_Damn it_. Reporters. Having bad experiences in the past, Harry loathed reporters. He brushed his fringe out of his face, weighing his options. At least the Ministry, unlike Dumbledore or Ron or the Order, thought Harry's opinion was worth something. And he could do some good – Veritaserum could put Death Eaters in Azkaban and keep innocents such as Stan Shunpike out.

He found himself nodding. "Yeah, I think I can do that."

"Excellent." Rising and replacing the parchment he had given Harry into his briefcase, Sanjay shook his hand again. "This has been most satisfactory. We'll arrange for a secure Auror transport to the press conference. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Potter. I can be reached by owl at the Ministry if you have any questions."

With that he smartly turned on one heel and left. Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, desperately hoping he knew what he was doing.

**oOo**

"Lemon drop."

The stone gargoyle stepped aside, and Harry climbed the circular staircase, turning over his meeting with Sanjay in his mind. Try as he might, he couldn't sense any sort of deception. And all he wanted was a verbal commitment to appear at a press conference; if Harry got wind of something untoward, he would merely skive off, no harm done.

The door to the Headmaster's office swung open. Dumbledore was behind his desk, and he gestured for Harry to take a seat. Nothing was said for a moment.

"You have been busy this term, Harry," Dumbledore finally spoke.

Harry was immediately wary. "Yes, sir."

"I understand you had a confrontation with Draco Malfoy."

"I did." Harry leaned forward. "Sir, I know you told me to forget about him, but if I could just tell you what he said …"

"By all means."

Still on his guard, Harry repeated what he had overheard Malfoy say that day in the corridor, waiting for the Headmaster to politely dismiss it, which is more or less what happened. Harry couldn't keep a cynical sigh from slipping out.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "What would you have me do, Harry? Pull Mr. Malfoy out of Transfiguration and take him to Azkaban myself?"

"That would be nice," Harry muttered sarcastically.

"I see your time with Miss Tonks has rubbed off on you." _Uh-oh._ Harry sat up straight, but Dumbledore's blue eyes were twinkling. "Regardless of the impression you may have received in the past, I do very much want to help you succeed. Learning to be a more competent duelist is certainly not an undesirable thing. I do not, of course, have any knowledge of illicit activities at Hogwarts."

Harry relaxed just slightly, not sure if he was relieved or suspicious. Did this mean Dumbledore kept an irritatingly close eye on him, or, as Harry had suspected in the past, that he merely had a pretty thorough knowledge of what went on in the castle? Ron's questions about Tonks's motives suddenly ran through his mind, but he shoved them away.

"And that is precisely why I asked you to visit tonight," the Headmaster continued. "There are things you must know, and I cannot wait much longer. You have done an admirable job of equipping yourself, though I must say I am surprised at your dealings with the Ministry –"

"I haven't done anything with them yet," Harry interrupted, tired of everyone giving an unwanted opinion on the matter.

"Just be aware that rarely is anything as it seems when it comes to the Ministry."

"_Nothing_ is ever as it seems, sir," Harry retorted. "Not in this world."

"That may be one of the most important lessons that you have learned, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "And it brings us precisely to one of the most valuable tools to defeating –"

He broke off abruptly, pulling his blackened hand toward his body, drawing in a sharp breath.

"Professor?" Harry asked uncertainly.

After a moment of silence, Dumbledore relaxed, shaking his head at Harry's concern. "My apologies, Harry. Now where were we? Ah, yes. As I said, I hold certain keys to defeating Lord Voldemort, keys that you cannot do without no matter how superb of a fighter you become."

"Then why the roundabout way earlier, sir?" Harry challenged. "You never directly answered my questions."

"Sometimes answers can be confusing if you do not have all the information," he replied in that annoyingly evasive manner. "But I have –"

This time his breath was a distinct hiss, and by the gray pallor of his face beneath the beard, Harry could tell he was in pain.

"Harry, I wonder if we could resume this meeting another time," he said in a surprisingly steady voice. "And I must ask you to fetch Professor Snape for me."

Harry was on his feet, worried about this atypical show of weakness. "Are you sure I shouldn't get Madam Pomfrey?"

"Professor Snape, please."

Not wanting to waste time, Harry pulled his wand and sent a patronus to Snape. Dumbledore nodded and smiled in approval, though his expression was strained. Snape swept in the door a few minutes later, his face betraying nothing as he took in the situation.

"You can leave now, Potter," he ordered, but Harry didn't budge, wanting to know what was happening.

"We shall resume next term, Harry," Dumbledore added.

Harry departed reluctantly, his brow furrowed as he contemplated what happened. Something was wrong with Dumbledore, that much was obvious, but why did he request Snape instead of Pomfrey? Nearly to the guardian gargoyle, Harry came to a halt. After a brief pause he spun around and ascended the stairs quietly, stopping just by the door. It was thick and wooden, but he'd been able to hear through it before.

"– worse," Snape was saying. "I told you … limit exertion … of time."

They were speaking in low tones and Harry couldn't make out everything, but he didn't dare press closer.

"… a year?" Dumbledore asked. If Snape replied, Harry didn't catch it. "Very well. Tell –" There was a long gap. "– Draco Malfoy."

"… won't talk … hurt … to me. If he keeps … endangering other …"

Harry listened a bit longer, hearing both his name as well as Tonks, but nothing made sense. He tried to piece together what he had overheard. It sounded very much like Snape and Dumbledore were after Malfoy. If that was the case, Harry didn't understand why he was told to keep out of it. And the black cloud hovering above all was the troubling matter of Dumbledore's strange behavior.

**oOo**

Harry dove, rolling into a crouching position when he landed. One down for good. One incapacitated. The last, spinning around to see where Harry had gone. _Diversion._ He shot a hex toward his opponent's left and slid to the right at the same time, a reductor curse on the tip of his lips. _Just a bit further …_ And as soon as the target's chest was in sight, Harry let loose, shattering his opponent into tiny pieces.

He pushed himself to his feet wearily, testing out his left leg. He'd been caught by a stinging jinx. Harry allowed himself a deep sigh, letting the adrenaline of his prolonged duel –

Slowly, almost comically, he fell backward, unable to catch himself as his limbs were frozen in place. _Bloody hell._ He waited for the lecture that was undoubtedly on its way.

"And you're dead, Potter."

Tonks's voice floated across the room. He heard a thump and assumed she'd jumped down from her high perch on a ledge on the far wall. Soon enough her face appeared in his line of vision, eyebrows raised expectantly. "I'll give you five minutes to figure out how you messed up while I clean up. If you don't have an answer waiting, you're dueling me, and I have your wand." She plucked the holly wand from his helpless grasp, sliding it into her holster alongside her own.

Harry fumed. Where had he gone wrong? He'd been battling three animated dummies at the same time all night long while Tonks controlled them from afar like a puppet-master. He replayed the last battle in his mind, following his progress as he bobbed and weaved through the storm of spells. He'd caught the first with a trip jinx, using the distraction to curse it. Though it took much longer, the second was eventually struck by the same full body-bind that held Harry, and then – oh. There it was.

True to her word, Tonks reappeared after she repaired the dummies. As soon as he was released, Harry was ready, knowing he only had a few seconds before she hexed him.

"I didn't secure the second target." She motioned for him to continue. "I moved on after putting it in a body-bind."

"If your opponent is alive –"

"It should be stunned, frozen, disarmed, and secured with ropes," Harry finished. "And moved out of sight if possible."

She tossed him his wand. "There you go. Your remaining target could easily have cast a _finite_ without you noticing." She glanced at her watch. "You know what? Let's do one more thing. Your first curse was weak." She pulled one of the dummies into range. "Sorry, Blinky."

Harry chuckled. "You named them?"

"Sure. Blinky, Pinky, and Inky. Now cast the curse." She watched as he did, narrowing her eyes. "Yeah, you have the incantation down, but your wand movement is off. Come here." Tonks moved behind him, placing her hand over his. "Wave it like this," she murmured, demonstrating, her breath hot against his neck. One free hand lightly rested on his waist.

"Like this?" Harry waved his wand, not really paying attention to what he was doing.

Tantalizingly, this was the closest they'd been since they kissed. Harry turned his attention from his wand to her eyes, an interesting sea green. She was just standing there, smiling slightly, waiting, and it would have been so easy to press his lips to hers again. Just a bend of the neck …

_BANG BANG._

They flew apart as if they'd been caught in the act. Each spun in wild circles with outstretched wands, looking for the source of the untimely noise.

_BANG BANG._

Both gazes were drawn to the door. Surely not. No one knew they were inside, and Tonks had specifically instructed the room not to be found. The room never failed. Tonks crept toward the door, wand still gripped defensively, and Harry followed. He was right behind her when she pressed one ear to the wood.

_BANG BANG_.

She jumped backward, conveniently into Harry's arms, letting out a muffled girlish squeak that Harry fully intended to take the mickey out of her for later. Somebody was trying to get inside the room. As if of the same mind, both dove for her bag, ruffling through it hastily. However, their goals were different, for when he pulled out the Marauder's Map, she held up two pieces of flesh-colored string.

_Thank Merlin for Fred and George Weasley._ Each stuck one string in an ear, letting the other ends snake under the door.

"– be right here," Harry heard the unmistakable voice of Draco Malfoy say. "It's never refused to appear."

"Maybe someone is inside." That was Crabbe, Harry thought, unintentionally perceptive.

"No one else knows about the room," Malfoy snapped. "This stupid castle …"

His voice faded away as if they were walking off, but when Harry put his hand on the door, Tonks grabbed his wrist.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Following."

"Why? To catch him out of bed?" She shook her head. "What's the point?"

Conceding, Harry activated the map. Sure enough, three dots were headed away from the Room of Requirement. He watched them grow closer to the Slytherin dormitory in the dungeons. Again, Malfoy was just out of their reach; they needed to find him inside the Room of Requirement, not in the corridor outside. At the very least it confirmed that this was the room he was using. And when they returned after Christmas, Harry had a plan.

That reminded him of something as they returned to his dormitory. "So what did you have to go to the Ministry for yesterday?"

"I told you, work." She gave him a sidelong glance. "Just an update in the Hogsmeade investigation."

"Really? What happened?"

"Don't worry about it, Harry. If there is something you should know, I'll tell you, but I can't talk about everything I do. I'd lose my job. I have a security clearance for a reason."

A tiny part of Harry wanted to be annoyed, but he knew it wasn't a matter of trust. With some effort he moved on. "I understand. And you're off for Christmas? What are you going to do?"

"Oh, sleep until noon, get properly drunk, start my Christmas shopping. Just relax. What are you doing over the hols?"

"I'm staying here," he said.

"Why would you want to stay here?"

"It's either here or Privet Drive. The Weasleys invited me, but …"

She nodded sympathetically, and then her eyes lit up like the proverbial light bulb clicked on. "Come stay with me!"

He was so startled he almost stopped walking. "What, you mean, really?"

"No, I lied. Of course, really. Come on! It'll be fun!"

That same tiny part of Harry spoke up again, wondering if she'd been ordered to keep an eye on him, but such sincerity and excitement shown in her eyes that he was easily swayed. "Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Tonks." He grinned. "Do you have a flat in London, or where?"

Her face dropped. "Oh, right. I don't have a flat anymore."

"What?"

"I gave it up when I was stationed here. No point in paying for a place I don't live in. Um, I guess I'll go to my parents', then."

"Your parents?"

"It'll still be a blast. They're cool enough, as 'rents go, and they both work, so they won't bother us. They won't care. Say yes, Harry."

He didn't often say no to Tonks, especially not when she was giving him that look, even if the idea of spending the holiday with her was dimmed by the addition of her parents. "Okay," he replied, grinning again.

Her mouth curved in a smile, and with uncharacteristic shyness she ducked her head before quickly changing the subject, talking about her weekend in London.

"… and then I said, 'Oi! If you'd put as much effort into giving us good service as you did flirting, maybe he'd actually be interested." Tonks shook her head as they returned to Harry's dormitory. "Skinny bint."

"Someone doesn't like it when girls fancy Cooper," Harry remarked as casually as he could, his chest tightening.

"That's nothing to do with it. I didn't appreciate an empty glass all evening, and she had less intelligence than a goldfish." She paused as they turned a corner, glancing around to make sure it was empty. "Coop can go out with half the birds in England for all I care. My only requirement for who he dates is that she deserves him."

Harry tried not to read anything into that. "You're awfully protective of him."

"Course I am. He's the brother I never had." She rolled her eyes. "Don't make this into something it isn't, Harry. We're just like you and Hermione."

Except for the fact that in his case, one wasn't obviously in love with the other, but he didn't say anything. Which was a good thing, for when they rounded the next corner, they came up on Professor Sprout.

"My goodness, Nymphadora!" The squat Herbology teacher held a hand over her heart. "You startled me."

"Wotcher, Professor. Sorry about that," Tonks said with a grimace. "And it's just Tonks, please."

Sprout smiled indulgently. "If you insist. I must say, I have the urge to take ten points from Hufflepuff and give a detention.

Tonks laughed. "You know me, the night owl."

"I remember. My greenhouses were never cleaner than those seven years you attended here."

Tonks wrinkled her nose. "Yes, I have such, ah, _fond_ memories of those detentions. But on that note, I'll continue on. If I see any miscreants, I'll be sure to send them your way."

Harry silently laughed to himself, amused by the fact that Tonks's troublemaking reputation still existed. He wondered if McGonagall, so often exasperated with his appearance whenever something out of the ordinary happened, would feel the same way about him ten years down the road. Assuming he was still alive ten years down the road …

Knowing Tonks had no patience with his brooding, as she called it, Harry slipped out from under the invisibility cloak and poked her, grinning, as the Fat Lady appeared in the distance. "Did you always lack the ability to behave or was in an acquired habit?"

"Says the boy I met out of bed in the middle of the night as a tender firstie."

"I had a good reason. I was helping a friend in need," Harry retorted. "What were you doing?"

"Something I wasn't supposed to, I'm sure," she replied. "Drinking, smoking, playing stupid games like Spin the Wand or Truth or Dare."

Harry chortled. "Truth or Dare?"

"That was the best! I never could turn down a good dare," she said with relish.

"Yeah?"

"That's the reason Hagrid never quite looks me in the eye."

"Do I even want to know about this?"

She grinned mischievously. "Sixth year, I took a dare to swim in the nude in the lake, and he was the one who caught me. His face turned as red as a Weasley's hair when I came out. I think he was more embarrassed than me; I was just bloody cold. And then when he tried to tell Professor Sprout what happened … classic. Mum sent me a Howler for that. It was epic."

Harry laughed loudly. "Have I told you lately that you're mental?"

"Not today."

"You're mental."

She smiled. "Thank you."

An idea was beginning to form. "So you can't turn down a good dare?" She shook her head, and they walked the last few paces in silence. "Tonks?"

"Hmm?"

"Truth or dare?" She started laughing, but he playfully persisted. "Come on, I've never played. Truth or dare?"

"Dare," she decided, clearly humoring him.

"I dare you to kiss me," he concluded triumphantly. That ought to make up for their interrupted moment in the Room of Requirement.

"And if I say no?" she challenged, though a wicked grin spread across her face.

"Er …"

"Learn the rules before you play a game, babe."

Locking her eyes on him, Tonks moved closer. And closer. Then with one sudden movement she seized his waist and stepped forward, one leg between his. A hand crept up into his hair, and when Tonks actually licked her lips, Harry nearly stopped breathing. She tugged his head down, her mouth moving oh so slowly toward his. Her lips parted just slightly … and at the last second she turned her head, brushing a kiss against his cheek.

"You didn't say where," she whispered in his ear.

**oOo**

Harry met Hermione outside Slughorn's office for the party.

"You look nice," he told her. She wore a dress of royal blue, while he had pulled on his bottle-green dress robes over trousers and a plain white shirt.

"Thanks," she replied with a pleased smile. "You, too."

"Should we go?" Harry opened the door, gesturing for Hermione to precede him.

They halted when they entered, gazing around in wonder. The office, much larger than normal, was so thoroughly decorated with wall hangings, streamers and soft lights that it was unrecognizable. Loud, formal music could be heard under the babble of the crowd. And a crowd it was, the room so full of students, at least half the staff, and a variety of unknowns that it took Harry a moment to realize that the trays of hors d'oeuvres were carried by Hogwarts house-elves instead of floating on their own, much to Hermione's consternation.

"Wow," Hermione breathed. "He's outdone himself. And is that the Weird Sisters over there?"

"I think so," Harry confirmed, remembering the hairy bass player from the Yule Ball. "Do you want a drink?"

"Yes, that would be nice."

Harry wound his way through the crowd, nearly bowling over an emaciated man with very white skin who eyed him hungrily. Backing away posthaste, Harry reached the drink table and grabbed two glasses of mead, surprised it was allowed at a party for students. Halfway back to where he had left Hermione, he heard a peal of laughter that stopped him in his tracks.

He zeroed in on the source with the unerring precision of the seeker – a long-legged (made even more so by a tiny black skirt) Auror standing close to a brown-haired man. Standing very close. As Harry watched, she laughed again, flipping long blonde hair over her shoulder and touching the man on the arm.

Perturbed, Harry changed direction, completely forgetting about his date as he headed for the Metamorphmagus.

Her blue eyes lit up when she saw him. "Harry! There you are! And you brought me a drink, how sweet." Tonks deftly relieved him of one glass.

"Blimey, you're Harry Potter!" the stranger said, gazing at Harry with awe. "Aidan Lynch."

The name tugged a distant memory. "You're the seeker for the Irish National Squad, aren't you?" Harry realized aloud, returning the look of awe. A world-class seeker was talking to him like an equal. "I saw you at the World Cup a few years ago. Brilliant, you were."

"Go on, I didn't even catch the Snitch," he said with a self-deprecating smile that soon turned puzzled. "At least that's what I was told, I don't really remember much …"

"Still, brilliant."

"Stop being so humble, Aidan," Tonks said. "Now, the next Cup is in a year and a half. Bet Ireland's not looking nearly as confident against England, are they?"

"Wasn't England destroyed last time?" Harry asked.

"Yes, yes, horribly embarrassing," she retorted impatiently. "But they upgraded to Firebolts across the board and replaced Frisby. Much stronger."

Lynch grinned. "It takes more than some brooms and a new keeper to fix that mess, love. I promise –" He broke off as someone bellowed his name across the room. "Ah, Connolly's already pissed. I have to go. Dead chuffed to meet you, Harry. And the lovely lady with no first name, I'll see you again, shall I?"

"Perhaps," Tonks said coyly.

"Nice chap, innit?" she asked when they were left alone.

"I thought he was a bit of a prat, actually," Harry said shortly.

Her grin widened. "Did you? Why, Harry, are you jealous?"

"Should I be?"

She laughed, touching his arm much like he had observed with Lynch. "Please don't. It's the most unattractive quality. Come on, babe, I had to have someone entertain me while I waited for you, and I've always been a sucker for Irish accents." Harry reminded himself not to let Seamus near Tonks. She leaned forward, speaking for his ears only. "And he has green eyes."

Harry couldn't help but return her grin, but it just as quickly disappeared when Hermione tapped his shoulder. "Oh! Sorry, Hermione. Er, this is yours." He held out his own drink, which she took with a wry smile.

"Thanks, Harry. Glad to see you haven't forgotten about me."

"I was just, uh, caught up –"

"Wotcher, Hermione." Tonks cut off his weak reply. "You look particularly gorgeous tonight."

"Oh, this is nothing," Hermione demurred, her cheeks pink. "But you look … great."

"I know," Tonks agreed, and all three laughed. "Having a good time?"

"Yes, excellent. I talked to Ginny and Dean for a bit before – oh no." Hermione grimaced as a tall young man bore down on them. Cormac McLaggen, a large seventh-year Gryffindor who'd been eying Hermione since the Quidditch tryouts.

"Hello, Hermione," he said in a confident voice, stepping directly in front of Harry without so much as a second glance. "I was waiting for you to show up."

"Excuse me!" Annoyed, Harry tapped him on the shoulder. "I'm her date."

Cormac turned around, his superior smirk changing to a look of interest. "Potter! I've been looking for you. Heard Weasley quit, so I guess I'm the keeper now."

Harry raised his eyebrows. No matter how well he played, Harry didn't know if he could deal with this attitude. "Oh really? Seems to me that as the captain, I make that decision."

"I was the best at tryouts."

Ignoring the fact that Cormac was a good head taller than him, Harry squared off. "I don't give a damn. I'm the captain, and I'll decide who the new keeper is when I feel like it, and I'll choose who I want. If you want the spot, you might want to remember that instead of making assumptions."

Cormac gave him what Harry figured was meant to be a menacing look before turning back around. This time, it was Tonks that drew his attention, probably because, as Harry had just figured out, Hermione had disappeared. "Hello."

She gave him a friendly smile. "Hi."

"I'm Cormac."

"Nice to meet you, Cormac," she replied without offering her name.

Apparently he took that as a positive sign. "You come often to Sluggy's parties?"

"No, this is my first time." Harry knew Tonks well enough to note the trace of amusement in her voice, and he decided to watch this play out.

"Oh, I've been to all of them. Sluggy's great friends with my uncle, Tiberius McLaggen, works at the Ministry, you know. Best mates with Rufus, I mean to say, Minister Scrimgeour. Sorry, I've been hunting with him so we're rather familiar."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he's practically like another uncle to me," Cormac bragged. "In fact, he's using some of his pull to get me into the Auror Office. Says my marks are so good, I'll be able to skip some training and be on a squad within a year."

Her eyebrows shot sky-high, though her smile didn't budge. "Is that right? An Auror? Fascinating. I suppose you have your application ready to go?"

"No, but it's all about who you know, really. If the Minister of Magic wants you in, you're in. All that paperwork and interviews and references, it's just a formality." He laughed, then seemed to actually notice Tonks for the first time. "You look familiar. What House are you in?"

"Oh, I'm not in a House anymore. I'm just stationed at Hogwarts this year."

"Stationed?" he repeated, recognition dawning on his face.

"Yes, for security." She grinned. "You know, because I'm an Auror."

"Oh, well, uh –"

"Save it for someone who cares. Why don't you run along now? I'd like to spend some time with my friend Harry. Someone who doesn't run his mouth about shite he knows nothing about. I'll be sure to tell your Uncle Tiberius all about our little chat next time I need his signature. Oh, and your good friend 'Rufus.'"

Ignoring his hasty excuses about how he was just making conversation and really, neither Uncle Tiberius nor Minister Scrimgeour needed to know their names were involved, Tonks sent him a satisfied smirk and pulled Harry away.

"You're brilliant, you know that?" he said.

"Snotty little braggart twats are a dime a dozen. Give them enough rope and they'll hang themselves."

"I'll remember that. Do you know where Hermione went off to?"

"Probably hiding, if that young behemoth is after her. He is cute, I'll give him that. Shame he has enough ego to fill that overblown chest of his." They looked around for a moment. "No, I don't see – ooh, is that Myron Wagtail over there?" She flashed Harry a quick smile. "I'm going to go talk my way into backstage passes for their next gig. See you tomorrow, babe."

Remembering he was about to spend the next few weeks with Tonks, Harry couldn't feel the least bit put out as she slipped through the crowd. He continued his search for Hermione, finally spotting her chatting with Melinda Bobbin, but halfway there a large shadow blocked his way.

"Harry, m'boy!" boomed Slughorn, who had clearly had more than one glass of mead. He threw a meaty arm around Harry's shoulders and steered him to the middle of the room.

Harry spent the next hour forcing small talk as Slughorn introduced him to friend after friend, from Ministry officials to wizarding celebrities, and a very uncomfortable ten-minute conversation with Professor Trelawny. When Harry finally managed to escape his grasp, leaving Slughorn in a spirited debate with Ambrosius Flume over the proper amount of sugar coating to use in crystallized pineapple, he was determined to find Hermione and leave. He'd had enough party for one night.

He found her with Tonks next to a table of Christmas crackers and various desserts. "Hermione, are you ready to go?"

"Absolutely." She appeared relieved. "Cormac's been chasing me all over the room. It wasn't until I found Tonks that he left me alone."

He turned to the Auror. "Get your backstage pass?"

"I did. I have amazing powers of persuasion, if I do say so myself." She beamed, her cheeks rather rosy.

"Enjoying the mead, are you?" he asked, noticing the glass in her hand.

"Indeed, though not as much as you suspect."

He exchanged a grin with Hermione. "Well, if my _date_ doesn't mind, would you like to walk back with us?"

"I'd be delighted." Tonks drained the glass in one impressive gulp, and they left.

When their paths diverged, Tonks gave Hermione a hearty hug. "Have a lovely holiday, Hermione." She winked at Harry when they parted. "And of course I'll see you tomorrow, babe."

"Can't wait," Harry said, grinning rather foolishly.

Hermione cast a suspicious glance at him, but it wasn't until they reached the seventh floor that she spoke. "Harry?"

"Hmm?" He was lost in a rather pleasant half-daydream that involved Tonks receiving the perfect Christmas present from him. Which he had yet to think of, but that didn't matter.

"Tonks was very pretty tonight, wasn't she?"

"She always is," he replied absently.

"Merlin's pants!"

Harry was startled out of his thoughts. "Why are we discussing an ancient wizard's undergarments?"

"You _fancy_ her," she said.

"Who?"

"Tonks, of course."

"Oh, her. Yes, I do."

She looked liked she'd been prepared to argue. "Oh. And does she fancy you as well?"

That was the question, wasn't it? "I'm not sure."

"Oh," she repeated. "Well … good luck, Harry."

"Did you just wish me luck?"

"Yes. Not to be rude, but after Cho and Parvati, I figured you could use it."

Harry's laughter carried them all the way to their dormitory and woke the Fat Lady.

**oOo**

After lunch on Saturday, Harry immediately returned to Gryffindor Tower with his classmates, all chatting and joking loudly in high spirits about the holiday. Throwing some clothes into his bag, he joined the queue outside Professor McGonagall's office to Floo to their respective homes, each class having been given an appointed time to stagger the departures.

"Bye, Harry!" Parvati called before she disappeared past the door.

Harry waved, pleased.

"She's talking to you again?" Neville asked, surprised.

"Appears so."

"I think she decided to expand her circle of friends," said Hermione.

"What do you mean?"

"Won-Won and Lav-Lav are attached at the hip these days, and Lavender is Parvati's best friend, isn't she? Even in our dorm he's all Lavender talks about." Hermione nodded up ahead, where Ron and Lavender were having a hard time detaching themselves.

Harry's stomach clenched uncomfortably at the mention of Ron. This would be the first Christmas he spent without his friend since arriving at Hogwarts. He was sure he wouldn't receive the traditional Weasley jumper and mince pies. It almost wouldn't seem like a holiday without his surrogate family.

"Harry, why don't you come see me after Christmas?" Hermione's voice brought him back to the present. "Mum and Dad have heard so much about you, and I'd love to show you where I grew up."

Harry stared at her. With a wave of shame, he realized he'd never seen her house, never spoken to her parents beyond an occasional quick greeting at King's Cross station. He knew nothing, in fact, about her life beyond Hogwarts, and she was supposed to be his best friend. Harry resolved to rectify this, and it appeared here was his chance.

"And I know Gran wouldn't mind having you for tea," Neville joined in enthusiastically. "You, too, Hermione. I've never really had friends over."

"That is, if you're not too busy with Tonks," Hermione added slyly.

Pleased with his invitations, Harry grinned. "I'll owl you both," he promised as the door in front of him swung open. "Have a happy Christmas!"

When he entered, McGonagall waved a hand at the fireplace. "The Floo powder is on the mantle," she said without looking up from her desk.

"Happy Christmas, Professor." Harry took a handful of the fine green powder.

"Potter? Wait a moment, please." Dropping her quill, the witch came around her desk. "The Tonkses have placed every possible security measure on their house for the duration of your visit. They insist they don't mind, and they were very kind to invite you, but please keep it in mind. Let's have no more shenanigans from you and Nymphadora, even if you are in the right."

Harry blinked. Another hint she agreed with him about the Order. "I'll do my best, but I can't make any promises about Tonks," he said with a cheeky smile.

"No one ever could. And Harry?" He turned back. "Do try to have a good Christmas."

"You, too, Professor." Avidly hoping that Tonks had already arrived at her parents' house, Harry threw the powder into the fireplace and stepped into the green flames, shouting the address she had given him.


	13. Kiss

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the song "Baby It's You" by Burt Bacharach or the version by The Beatles.

* * *

><p><strong>Kiss<strong>

When the spinning stopped, Harry stumbled out into a room that was not what he expected.

Despite the fact that Mrs. Tonks had been raised in the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, Tonks's descriptions of her parents had given Harry an impression of the Weasleys, and he had anticipated something similar to the Burrow. However, the room he was in was large and nicely decorated. A shiny hardwood floor was partially covered with thick rugs, and a big, twinkling Christmas tree occupied a far corner. Several armchairs and a sofa sat around a modern television that would have set Dudley to drooling. Shelves stood on either side of the television, filled with curios, books, and pictures. The walls were covered with framed photographs, some magic, others Muggle, and they gave the room a warm, homey sense. But it was the pink head that popped up from an armchair that was the most welcoming.

"Harry!" Tonks exclaimed, tossing aside a fluffy throw and vaulting over the back of the sofa with a half-eaten green apple in one hand. She hugged him, and he returned it with vigor. "I was wondering when you would arrive. Come on, you're just in time."

"Just in time for what?"

"My parents are about to leave to finish up Christmas shopping, and then they're going to visit my great-aunt," she explained as she tossed his bag to one side and pulled him out of the room. They came to a stop in the foyer, where Mr. Tonks was helping Mrs. Tonks into her coat.

Her father was no taller than Harry, with a smattering of fair hair and a belly that pushed at his shirt, though by no means comparable to Uncle Vernon. He had a good-natured face that settled into laugh lines easily, and his eyes crinkled the same way as his daughter's when he smiled. He greeted Harry with a warm smile, a firm handshake, and an admonition to "Call me Ted, son."

Harry came to a complete stop when he saw her mother, rudely staring until Tonks cuffed him over the head. Mrs. Tonks was Bellatrix Lestrange made over, although on second impression her eyes were kinder and her hair was brown. Although she had a quiet reserve that her husband and daughter lacked, she was nothing if not cordial.

"I'm so sorry to run out on your first night here, Harry, but we planned this before we knew of your visit," Andromeda told him.

"It's alright," Harry assured them. "Don't worry about me. I'm sure I can keep an eye on Tonks while you're gone." They laughed, and that set Harry at ease. "I do want to say how grateful I am for letting me stay."

"To be honest, Dora didn't really give us a choice," Ted said, and it took Harry a moment to realize to whom he was referring. "Not that we weren't more than happy," he added hastily after a hard look from his daughter.

"Are you sure you won't come with us?" Andromeda asked her daughter. "When was the last time you visited Aunt Helen?"

"Mum, she hates me."

"Don't be ridiculous. She loves you."

"She loves to lecture me." Tonks took on the appearance of a wrinkled old woman, adopting a high, reedy voice. "'Nymphadora, however do you expect to land a husband if you insist on dressing like a hoodlum?'"

Andromeda gave her a firm look. "She's from a different time. Go see her while you're home, Nymphadora."

"Fine," Tonks muttered. Harry was amused to see there was at least one person in this world who could keep Nymphadora Tonks in check.

"And what do you have planned for today?" Ted asked pleasantly.

Harry was saved the trouble of answering (as he really had no idea) by Tonks's prompt response. "We're going to eat the cheesecake Mum thinks she's hiding in the back of the refrigerator."

"You'll do no such thing," was Andromeda's immediate rejoinder.

"Oh, I'm going to eat it until I'm sick."

"If you –"

"Dromeda, we need to leave," Ted interrupted. "We're supposed to meet Alice and Connor in fifteen minutes."

"Go on, you two," Tonks said, opening the front door and sweeping them out. "Eat, drink, and be merry. Don't do anything I would do." She winked at her father as he passed. "Have her home by ten, young man."

"Don't touch that cheesecake!"

After she shut the door, Tonks leaned against it, grinning at Harry with dancing eyes. "I love winding her up."

"Are you actually going to eat it?"

"No, she made it for tomorrow." Tonks gave Harry a mischievous glance. "The thing about my mother, babe – and I swear it's been this way since the day I was born – is that she can be rather high-strung, and for some reason if she says be quiet I immediately want to shout at the top of my lungs. Dad tells me to do something, and I'm fine, but Mum … let's just say my problems with authority began with her."

Harry grinned, not surprised in the least, as he followed Tonks back into the living room. Taking his bag, she led him on a quick tour around the house. It was nice, too big for a family of three. Like many homes, family portraits lined the staircase, and he smiled at them, watching Tonks grow from chubby baby to gap-toothed child to lanky teenager, all manner of hair colors and styles in between.

"And this will be your room."

Tonks led him into a bedroom decorated in pale blue. Harry set his bag inside the wardrobe and glanced out the lone window that overlooked a spacious garden below. When he turned around, Tonks was watching him.

"There's another room down the hall if you want …"

He shook his head. "No, it's great, thanks."

"Good." She looked around, smiling. "You know, this was my playroom when I was little. I had a massive dollhouse right where the bed is."

"You played with dolls?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Not in the traditional sense. My dolls engaged in legendary battles with cotton buds for wands. I always put a hostage at the very top of the dollhouse, though I liked to pretend it was a castle. And my favorite dolls would ride into battle on stuffed dragons and unicorns."

"The Auror training started early."

"I was a lonely kid with a very vivid imagination."

Harry nodded in agreement, remembering his own hours in his cupboard under the stairs with the few leftover toys of Dudley's he was allowed. It wasn't, however, nearly as fond a memory as hers.

"Anyway," she continued. "The bathroom is next door, and my bedroom is at the end of the hall. I'll leave you to get settled."

After changing out of his uniform, Harry put his toothbrush in the bathroom and wandered into her bedroom. He would have recognized it as hers even if she hadn't told him. Like her cubicle at work, the walls were covered with everything from posters of bands and the 1990 English National Team to Hufflepuff hangings to pictures of waving teens. Oddly, numerous boxes cluttered the floor. Tonks was lounging on a window seat on the far wall, stroking an enormous tabby cat.

"What are the boxes for?" Harry asked, taking a seat on her bed.

"My things from my flat. Mum and Dad are keeping it for me until I get another next summer. Those and Jabba here." She scratched the purring cat.

Harry chortled. "Jabba? What kind of name is that?"

"Jabba the Hutt? From Star Wars?" Her face was incredulous. "Tell me you've seen Star Wars."

"I've heard of it, of course, but I've never seen it," he replied defensively.

She appeared shocked. "How sad. We'll remedy that while you're here. Anyway, this is Jabba the Cat. I got him when I was ten. I wanted to call him The-Cat-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but Mum didn't think it was appropriate." She laughed. "Story of my life. Oh, and I should warn you he doesn't fancy anyone touching him but me."

On cue, the cat gave Harry a baleful glance. "No worries there," he said. "I never liked cats."

"I repeat: how sad." Just then Jabba jumped off her lap and ran out of the room, leaving two amused humans behind. "Oh dear, you offended him." Tonks gave him her full attention. "So, what do you want to do?"

He'd been waiting for this. "I have to tell you something. I meant to the last time we met in the Room of Requirement, but I was distracted by Malfoy –"

"And attempting to coerce a snog."

He grinned. "Can't blame me for trying. Look at you. No one could kiss you just once."

She rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched with a smile. "Flattery will get you everywhere. Continue."

"We haven't been alone since, so I haven't had a chance …" Harry told Tonks nearly every detail of his aborted meeting with Dumbledore, leaving out only the bit about the Ministry. He remembered her less-than-enthusiastic reaction at the trial, and he figured he'd deal with it when the time came. When he finished with what he'd managed to hear through the door, she began walking across her room, clearly running over it in her mind.

"Tell me again what Sevvie said about Malfoy," she requested. After he complied, she dropped onto the bed next to him, bouncing on the cushioned mattress and crossing her arms. She turned to him with a perturbed look. "Are you fucking me?"

"No, but if you're offering …"

He couldn't believe those words had just come out of his mouth, and by her wide eyes and open mouth, she couldn't either. For once he'd knocked Tonks temporarily speechless. Finally she threw her head back and laughed, and Harry allowed himself to breathe.

"Wow," she gasped. "And on my bed, too. I have thoroughly corrupted you, haven't I?"

"I think you've been a bad influence."

No longer laughing, she leaned toward him, running one finger along his jaw. "You think so?" she said in a low, sultry voice. "Oh, Harry. When I'm truly being a bad influence, you'll _know._" Now he was the one who couldn't speak, and she continued to make things worse, biting her bottom lip as she caught his eye. "Have you ever been on a girl's bed?"

"No," he said, unable to keep from flushing.

She laughed again, standing up to resume her pacing. "Good to know I can still make you blush. Now, if I've embarrassed you enough … so Snape and Dumbledore know Malfoy is up to something?"

"That was my impression. But it doesn't make sense – if Dumbledore wants to stop him, why did he tell us to drop it? If he had said he was doing something, I would have been satisfied."

Tonks raised her eyebrows. "Really?" she asked in a dry tone. "You would have gone about your business and completely ignored Malfoy?"

Harry grinned. "Probably not, but I could help." He paused. "To be honest, I'm more concerned about what's wrong with Dumbledore."

"It has to be related to his arm, doesn't it?" Tonks speculated. "Healthy people don't have blackened hands." Holding her left hand in front of her face, she easily demonstrated. "Creepy, innit? Looks dead."

"And if his hand is dead, then the rest of him …" His stomach clenching, Harry didn't need to finish his sentence. Something was seriously wrong with Albus Dumbledore. And despite the fact that Harry no longer saw him as an infallible, benevolent grandfather type with all the answers, what he wanted most was for them to work together again. "I need his help. Not only did he defeat Grindelwald, everyone says he's the only one Voldemort ever feared, and there must be a reason for that. I saw them duel at the Ministry; it was an even match."

"That must have been so cool to watch," Tonks said enviously.

"Quite, beyond the temporary possession and threat of death," Harry said, harsher than he intended.

"Shite – oh, Merlin, Harry – I didn't – I'm sorry," she stammered, instantly repentant. "Open mouth, insert overlarge boot, yeah?"

Harry had to smile at the mental image. "It's fine."

She leaned down to lightly kiss his temple, his forehead burning from the touch. "I'm an idiot, and you're too nice to me. Except for that time you called me easy."

"I didn't –" Harry began before seeing that she was teasing him.

She jumped up, seized by one of those startling mood swings and an accompanying surge of energy. "Let's get out of here, babe. I'm having too many teenage flashbacks with the décor in this room. Mum says she keeps just as I left it five years ago so I know I always have a place to go."

"I think that's nice," Harry said, thinking of his begrudgingly-given room at Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon was nearly as ready to have it back as Harry was to leave it behind forever.

"So do I, but don't tell my mother I said that."

They ended up in the same room he had arrived in earlier. Tonks curled up next to him, and during a stretch of silence when they were engrossed in a television show, she summoned a blanket, spreading it over both of them. Emboldened by the intimate move, he hesitantly slipped an arm over her shoulders, and when she merely leaned closer, Harry completely lost interest in Time Lords, wondering if the game between them was over. He enjoyed their flirtatious banter, but he'd never felt so drawn to another, felt such a strong yet easy connection that he couldn't fathom was one-sided.

Eventually, the windows darkening as the sun set, Tonks stood up and stretched, her top pulling up enticingly, and Harry's stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly.

"Hungry?" she asked. "Do you want to go in town and get a pizza?"

"You mean you aren't going to cook for me?" Harry put on his best disappointed face.

"I can if you want," she replied unexpectedly. "But not today, I'll have to go by the market first."

"I'm just teasing, Tonks. You don't have to cook for me."

"No, I will. You don't think I can cook?" she asked, correctly interpreting his doubtful expression. She tossed her head. "I can cook. Just wait."

"No, thank you, I already have a dark wizard after me. I'd like to live to face him."

"Why does everyone always assume I'm murder in a kitchen? I'll cook for you one night, and you'll die happy."

Harry caught her eye. "I'm already happy."

He loved the way she tried to hide it when he pleased her. "You're getting better at this."

"So my wooing is working?"

"I guess you'll find out eventually."

By this time they had arrived in the garage, and Tonks was getting into a sporty red car. Harry came to a halt. "Wait. You're driving?"

"Why not?"

"Do you know how to drive?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, I'll learn as we go. Of course I do, my dad taught me when I was your age. I've a proper Muggle license and everything. Now get in."

Harry got into the passenger side and immediately buckled his seat belt, strangely nervous. When Tonks took off, he understood why. "Tonks? You know there's a speed limit, don't you?"

"I always look at it as more of a suggestion."

Thankfully, Harry's mental prediction that they would never reach the pizzeria wasn't fulfilled, and they arrived without incident (and in what had to be record time), although he was sure he had worn a groove pressing on the imaginary brake.

After splitting an enormous pie they bought coffees and wandered around the town, glancing into shop windows and listening to Tonks tell stories from her childhood, for she had grown up here. It wasn't as sunny as Harry would have guessed; she was born during Voldemort's first rise to power, and Andromeda's fears that her sister would make them a target had blighted her early years.

Early on Harry slipped his hand into her gloved one. This, he thought, was how holidays should be spent: hand in hand with Tonks, walking and talking in carefree spirits, bathed in light from streetlamps, breath ghosting in the cold air, catching her when she slipped on nonexistent ice. And the best part was that, for once, Tonks wasn't pulling away with teasing quips and saucy glances. Though Harry hardly dared to let himself believe it, her signals were nothing but encouraging.

They found their way back to the car without realizing it, but judging by the number of closed shops, several hours had passed. The return trip was once again at breakneck speed, and Harry made Tonks admit she had a tendency do drive on the fast side. She had, in fact, nearly received a speeding ticket the first weekend she had the car.

"But I talked my way out of it, so it doesn't count," she claimed.

When they arrived at her parents' house, music filtered from the living room.

"The sound of the first eighteen years of my life," Tonks said with a fond smile.

"Yeah? What is this?"

She gave him a strange look. "It's the Beatles, babe. Your pop culture education is sadly lacking, isn't it? Don't worry, I'll take care of it. My parents are Beatles fanatics. I grew up on this stuff. Mum was horrified the first time I bought a Sex Pistols album."

"A Sex Pistol?" he repeated. "That sounds painful." Tonks laughed so hard she walked into a wall.

After they shed their coats, they found Ted and Andromeda at the source of the music. Ted looked up from behind the _Daily Prophet_ with a smile. "We were wondering where you went off to. I hope she wasn't too much trouble, Harry."

"Nothing I haven't dealt with before." Grinning as Tonks stuck her tongue out, he took a seat on the sofa, his feet tired after their long walk. "We had pizza. It was really good. Not something they serve at Hogwarts."

"Oh, did you go to the place in town? It's an old favorite. Dora caught the place on fire on her ninth birthday."

"Dad!"

"Baby, you did." Andromeda appeared from behind the tree, where she had been arranging presents. "The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad had to come and put things to rights."

"Mum!" Tonks turned to Harry, who was laughing. "Shut it. At least I never blew up my aunt."

"You blew up your aunt?" Ted blurted.

"It's not what it sounds like," said Harry quickly. He didn't want the Tonkses to think they were hosting a teenage murderer. "I just sort of … accidentally inflated her. And she flew off and had to be punctured." Ted burst out laughing, and even Andromeda wore an amused smile. "How do you know about that?"

"Oh, the AMRS blokes have the biggest mouths in the Ministry."

Ted stood, still chuckling. "I'll be sure not to anger you, Harry, I'm round enough as it is." He patted his belly before folding his paper and tucking it under his arm. "I'm off to bed. Night, Harry. Goodnight, sweetest. Coming, darling?" This was accompanied by a smile for Harry, a kiss on the head for Tonks, and a nod to his wife.

"Yes, I believe I am. Goodnight, you two. Don't stay up too late."

"G'night, Mum. No, leave it on," Tonks said as her mother pointed her wand at the stereo.

When her parents were gone, Tonks kicked off her trainers and rested on the opposite side of the sofa, her feet touching Harry's leg. "Did you have a good day, Harry?"

"Yeah, I did."

"I'm really glad you're here," she said softly.

"Me, too. I would have missed you," he said, feeling bold.

A smile slowly spread across her face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Nothing was said for several minutes. Harry felt about as content as he could be, briefly ignoring all the looming problems in his life. If he had stayed at Hogwarts, he'd probably be laying in his four-poster, feeling sorry for himself.

When the song switched, Tonks suddenly sat up straight, her eyes lighting up. Harry had just long enough to think about how lovely she was before she sprang to her feet, pulling his hands to make him stand as well.

"What –"

"Dance with me," she said simply. "This is one of my favorites."

He tried to pull away. "I don't dance."

"Everyone dances, silly. See, you put this hand here, and …" Before he knew what was happening, they were rotating in time with the melody. "Isn't this nice?" she whispered, her face so very close to his own.

Nice? To hold her close, to smell the scent of sweet apples, to gaze at those stormcloud eyes, to smile together when they tripped over their feet? Yes, it was nice, and Harry was in trouble.

And then she leaned in, singing along with the lyrics. "_Can't help myself_," she sang softly, and he swore she looked right in his eyes. "_'Cause baby, it's you_."

Harry had no desire to speak when the song ended, wishing to prolong the moment for a very long time. When the next one started, both jumped.

"I'm tired," Tonks said suddenly. "I think I'll call it a night. You?"

"Um, yeah."

Dressed in his pajamas, Harry padded down the hallway to the bathroom to brush his teeth, but it was already occupied by Tonks, clad in her own pajamas and perched on the countertop.

"No, it's fine," she said thickly when he made to leave, her toothbrush still in her mouth. She gestured for him to proceed. After Tonks rinsed, Harry followed, and when he straightened up, he noticed something.

"You have a bit of toothpaste, there," he said with a smile, gesturing to the corner of her mouth. She brushed at it but missed. He laughed, and without thinking he reached out and rubbed off the toothpaste with his thumb.

As he pulled his hand away, Tonks caught his wrist, an unreadable expression on her face, her eyes both challenging and curious. They looked at each other for a infinite moment, and then, unsure of what he was doing, Harry slid one hand around her waist and pulled her close. Her hand, warm to the touch, climbed into his hair, and their eyes remained locked while their heads moved closer as if magnetized.

"I would really like to kiss you again," he mumbled, his mouth mere inches from hers.

"Okay," she murmured in response.

So gently he wasn't sure it was actually happening, they met in a kiss. Delightfully minty, her soft lips pressed against his with just the right amount of pressure. Their kiss was neither short nor long, passionate nor chaste. It was sweet and tender and right, just as their first kiss should have been. When they pulled away, they simply gazed at each other.

"That was nice," she said softly with a small smile. "Goodnight, Harry. Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, Tonks," he called after her, fairly floating to his own room, wondering if he would get the chance to dream at all with his mind so fixated on the Shakespeare-quoting, oft-laughing, always-tripping Metamorphmagus sleeping just down the hall.

**oOo**

Harry's first few days at the Tonks household passed in a pleasant blur of shopping, movies, late nights, and equally late mornings. He and Tonks spent one memorable afternoon in an empty car park, teaching Harry how to drive. Once he understand the mechanics of shifting, he thought he did pretty well. By the end Tonks deemed him "passable, but slow" and squealed the tires leaving.

Ted and Andromeda took to him, and in turn he to them. Mild-mannered Ted appeared to enjoy the sparring matches between his wife and daughter, though he was often forced to referee. He was an avid follower of both Quidditch and football, a hardcore fan of Puddlemere United and Arsenal, and after Harry showed the slightest interest, Ted enthusiastically included him in daily conversations about the clubs. Andromeda, for her part, made Harry's favorite dishes, coaxed him into taking seconds at each meal, and showed just as much interest in his life as she did her own daughter's. It took barely a day for Harry to feel at home around the dinner table. And if they were aware of his burgeoning relationship with Tonks, they didn't seem to mind.

That, of course, was the best part. Tonks's affinity for affection had only increased, and much of their alone time was marked by lazy kisses. Given that her parents both had jobs, it was often just the two of them.

Not that he was complaining.

Late one night, her parents asleep, Tonks and Harry stretched out on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, as they had fallen into a routine of doing, toasting various treats and either talking or reading from her impressive library of Auror training literature.

"So what he's saying is that there's more to casting than the incantation and wand movement," Tonks explained, flipping the page of a large tome in front of her. "If you understand the theory behind it – what the flick does, what the swish adds, why the order is important – then your spell will be that much better."

Harry smiled, pulling his toasting fork out of the fire to see if his marshmallow was done. "You know, I never would have marked you for a reader."

"I don't read for fun. Remus or Hermione, for example, like knowledge for knowledge's sake; they read because they enjoy it. I read to become a better Auror."

"Why don't you show this side of you more often?" Harry asked.

"What side?"

"This whole serious, responsible Auror side."

She tilted her head. "You don't like it when I'm not?"

"Not at all," he clarified in a hurry. "I like every side of you."

"I bet you do. Front and back."

"No, that's not what I mea– hey!" Harry lunged at the marshmallow she had just plucked from his grasp, inches from his mouth. With a surprised squeak, she was pinned to the floor beneath him, but every time he reached for the melted confection, she morphed her arm longer out of his reach. "Come on! That was mine!"

"Say the magic word," she taunted. Instead Harry bent his head to capture her lips, feeling them curve in a smile against his as he tugged the marshmallow out of her now-sticky fingers. "That works, too."

Harry grinned triumphantly, but his second attempt to eat the treat was thwarted as well when she stole it once again, this time with her own mouth instead of fingers. He stared down at the smug face of the Metamorphmagus, her comely visage slightly marred by the sweet that wasn't entirely within her mouth.

"I win," she mumbled, her words muffled.

Harry looked at her with disbelief for a long moment before dropping onto the soft rug next to her, laughing loudly. _Absolutely irrepressible_, he thought to himself, a situation made even more ridiculous given that it started with a conversation about her being serious.

"Hey, Tonks?" he ventured when their laughter had subsided, taking advantage of their relaxed moods before his courage failed him.

"Hmm?"

"Would you, er, go out with me? Like on a proper date?"

She rolled over, resting her chin and hands on his chest. The gleam in her eye told him her answer before she spoke. "Sure. What do you have in mind?"

"Dinner. Somewhere nice."

"Lovely. Tomorrow night?"

"It's a date, then." Harry grinned.

"Can't wait." Tonks winked before climbing to her feet. "I'm knackered and can't possibly eat anything else. Bed is calling my name, babe. You?"

He held up his hands in response, and when Tonks pulled him to his feet, he took the opportunity to grab her waist and kiss her again, still not quite believing he could do this whenever he wanted. When he pulled away, he noticed the silver chain around her neck. "Is that your Ministry medallion? Why are you still wearing it if you don't have to work?"

She frowned. "Didn't I tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Oh. The Auror office always maintains one team as RRF, or rapid response force. If any emergency pops up, the RRF is the first on the scene. The teams rotate, holding duty for a month, and we landed it this month. Which, now that I reckon, is why I was able to take leave so easily – they knew I'd end up being away from the castle anyway."

Harry took her hand as they walked upstairs. "There go my plans of keeping you by my side for the next two weeks."

Tonks laughed. "Don't worry about it. You're stuck with me, babe. Nothing's going to happen."

**oOo**

Harry desperately tried to flatten his hair, to no avail. He needed some of that Sleekaeazy goop Hermione had used to such great effect for the Yule Ball. For every hair he managed to lay close to his head, two more sprang up wildly.

The voice of his date filtered in from the hallway. "How long are you going to primp? And I'm the woman. I need in – oh, haha." Tonks came to a stop in the doorway of the bathroom, chuckling. "This could take a while."

Harry scowled at her. "I'm just trying to look nice. You haven't even changed yet."

"That's the very last thing I do. I'll leave you to fight the good fight." With that she ruffled his hair and left, undoing any progress he'd made.

Desisting his fruitless efforts, Harry retreated to his bedroom, selecting a dark green Oxford shirt Tonks had bought him the day before. He had just pulled it on when he heard Tonks swear loudly. A moment later, she burst through his door, trying to button her jeans and push her arms into her dragon-skin jacket at the same time.

"Come on, come on, come on!" she said rapidly, yanking his arm. "I was just called in, we have to go now."

"Go – what – where?" Harry barely managed to grab his own coat before she pulled him down the stairs.

"Come _on_!" she insisted, still dragging him toward the door, shoving her feet into her boots. "Mum and Dad aren't – you can't – I'll have to –"

Harry was thoroughly confused, and her inability to finish any sentences in her haste only added to that. He had deduced that she had to rush off to work somewhere, but where was she taking – and his thought process was abruptly halted as soon as they passed the door and Tonks twisted on the spot.

They reappeared outside a small, rundown house that looked to be in the middle of nowhere, the smudge of a forest just visible to one side of his peripheral vision. Not that Tonks gave him much time to look around, pushing him toward the front door.

"Tonks, what –" he tried.

"Emergency, must go, will return, bye!" Before he could say anything else, she tapped her medallion and was gone.

More bewildered than ever, Harry drew his wand and looked around. The house wasn't as remote as he originally thought, a road leading to the lights of a village opposite the forest. Tonks had presumably brought him here for a reason, so Harry slowly headed for the door, eyes roving, wand still gripped tightly.

"Er, hello?" he called, knocking.

After a few seconds, footsteps approached the door. "Who's there?"

"Professor Lupin?"

"Harry?" he asked, voice tinged with astonishment. "What are you – wait. What did I give you the first time we met?"

"Chocolate, on the Hogwarts Express, after the dementors, third year."

The door swung open to reveal the scarred, prematurely aged face of Harry's former (and still favorite) professor. "What are you doing here, Harry? And where's Tonks?"

"I honestly don't know where Tonks is," Harry began. "She –"

"Hold on," Lupin interrupted, glancing around uneasily. "Come inside."

Once seated in a rickety chair, a steaming mug of tea in front of him, Harry told Lupin about Tonks's emergency and her bewildering stop at his house.

"I suspect she didn't want you to be left alone, but she should have made sure I was here," Lupin said when he finished.

"I don't need to be babysat," Harry ground out.

"Of course you don't. No one thinks that, least of all Tonks. But she's only looking out for you. Suppose whatever emergency she ran off to was nothing but a fabrication to get her out of the house, leaving you alone. No wards can stand forever."

Harry made an evasive noise deep in his throat. What was the point of Tonks training him if she didn't think he could defend himself?

"I often think of how like your parents you are," Lupin continued. "But this facet of your personality, this deep-seated desire to be independent, is something all your own. Though believe me, I understand not wanting to accept help." He waved his hand around the house, wearing a bitter smile. "And anyway, I'm glad to see you. I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk at the Order meeting."

"I didn't get much of a chance to talk to anyone at that meeting."

"No, I suppose you didn't." A long pause. "What did you want to happen when you showed up?"

Harry leaned back in his chair. "Best case scenario, for Dumbledore to listen. But honestly? I wanted to shake things up. I want to do more, Prof–" He stopped. If he wanted to step up his role, he had to make the others see him as more of an equal. "I was in this from the very beginning, and I can't turn around now, Remus."

Lupin – no, Remus looked up at the use of his first name, but he didn't remark upon it. "That's true. You know, Tonks told me to talk to you when I asked her how all this started. Of course, this was after she cursed at the entire Order."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, she told me."

"Did she tell you she hasn't been back since? Things aren't going so well for us, Harry."

He leaned forward earnestly, resting his elbows on the table. "I know that. That's why we need to do more. I might not be able to fight much yet, but I have ideas, I have money, I –"

Remus held one hand up. "Slow down. While I agree that we haven't managed to do much fighting back, the last thing we need to do is to start fighting amongst ourselves. That's exactly what he wants."

"I don't want to split up the Order. I want to join. It's just like the summer after he came back. I want to know what's going on." Harry hesitated before making a decision. This was the only one of his parents' friends he had left, the man who taught him to face fear and saved him from a suicidal run after Sirius. "Do you know there's a prophecy?"

A complex range of emotions fluttered across the scarred face. "Yes, but you don't have to fulfill it."

"I don't, but he won't stop until he does. So I either sit and wait while others die around me, or I get ready to face him."

Nothing was said as Remus stood and refilled their mugs, but before he sat down, he patted Harry's shoulder. "You are your father's son."

"I couldn't be anyone else."

Remus smiled. "I see Tonks has influenced your snarky side. How is she?"

"She's Tonks. She's … great."

"I can see from your grin that she is, indeed." Harry ducked his face, his grin widening, but when he looked back up, Remus wouldn't make eye contact, tugging at his collar uncomfortably. "We don't, ah, need to talk about anything, do we?"

"What do you mean?"

Remus cleared his throat. "I mean, you and Tonks, well, she's a grown woman, and, er, she may expect … more, and, you know, there are things you need to know about that."

Harry colored, immediately dropping his gaze to his tea. "Please don't tell me you're trying to give me the safe sex talk."

"Well, if you need –"

"I've got it," Harry said tightly. "I know how to be safe, and we're not … you know."

"Oh, good." There was no mistaking the relief in his voice as each man looked anywhere but at the other.

Determined not to blush anymore, Harry tried to think of something, anything else to discuss. "So … how are your missions with the werewolves?" he said in a loud voice. It wasn't exactly the best topic, but anything was better than awkward silence.

At any rate, the werewolf himself seized upon it. "Not too great. Frankly, Greyback offers them much more than I can. Until the Ministry and people themselves change their attitudes, it's tempting to support someone who lets you do as you wish."

"Do you need anything? I can pay for Wolfsbane."

Remus smiled harshly. "Thank you, but the others barely tolerate me as it is. I'd lose whatever respect I've earned by using Wolfsbane. Though there is someone –"

"Lupin, your bloody pipes are acting up again."

Both turned at the new voice, and Harry's eyebrows shot into his hair. Standing at the edge of the hallway that led to the rest of the house was a young man wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

"Will you fix the damn things?" Without even a glance at Harry, the stranger turned and walked away.

"This is not what it looks like," Remus said before Harry could speak.

"Who am I to judge your private life?"

"It's not –" He moderated his voice. "It's not that at all. He's a werewolf, newly turned. His parents are dead and he has nowhere else to go. He's young, near your age, and the only thing keeping him from joining Greyback is that his mother died in the same attack when he was bitten. I'm trying to help him."

"Wait a second," Harry said slowly. "I think I read about this in the paper last month … they said someone was missing."

"That's him," Remus confirmed. "He was … well, no one wants to admit they've been bitten, especially at first. Listen, I'm going to fix the shower. If he comes out, don't take his attitude personally. He can be very difficult, but he's been through a lot."

Sure enough, not long after Remus walked away, the younger werewolf returned, thankfully dressed this time. Even under his clothes, Harry could tell he was thickly muscled, and his shaved head merely added to his menacing demeanor.

He didn't bother with Harry until he had fixed a sandwich. Then, leaning against the stove, he stared at Harry with very dark eyes. "I figured Lupin for a poofter," he said by way of introduction.

"Excuse me? You think – he and I? No, no, no. Not at all," said Harry quickly.

"Why are you here, then? The famous Harry Potter."

_Damn scar_. "Visiting. He was a friend of my parents. And since you know who I am …"

"I'm sure you know why I'm here, so I'd say we're even," he retorted. Not at all sure he liked this person, Harry merely held his gaze until he rolled his eyes. "Eric Rosier." _Rosier._ Harry racked his brain, trying to remember where he'd heard that name before. "Yeah, you're not the only one who has famous parents." He barely moved his mouth when he talked. "Evan Rosier, big, bad Death Eater. Killed before I was even born."

Even more uncertain now that he knew he was speaking with the son of a Death Eater, Harry struggled to keep the conversation going. "Sorry to hear about your mother."

Eric squeezed his sandwich so hard a drop of mustard splattered on the floor. "I don't need your pity."

Shrugging, Harry picked at a splinter on the table. He didn't need attitude from an angry werewolf. He hoped Tonks would be back soon, not only because he wanted to leave, but also because the longer she was gone the higher the possibility that she was in danger.

"All fixed!" Remus announced, his face darkening as he took in the two sullen teenagers. "I see you've met."

"Can't you tell we're the best of mates now?" muttered Eric sarcastically. "Thanks for arranging the playdate."

"All he's trying to do is help you," Harry snapped, standing up. "You could show a little gratitude."

"Fuck off, golden boy Gryffindor. You don't know anything about me. Why don't you go back to your perfect little life with your money and your fame and your friends and leave the filthy werewolves alone?"

"Eric," Remus began, but Harry waved him away.

"How do you know I'm a Gryffindor?"

Eric sneered. "I was only a year ahead of you. My mum was ill, so I left school to go see her, and we know how well that turned out."

"Hogwarts, huh? Let me guess – Slytherin."

"Yeah. What's it to you? And everyone says Slytherin are the prejudiced ones. I can see it in your eyes – pureblood, wealthy, Death Eater in the making." He took a step closer. "Let me tell you something, Potter. I may be a pureblood, but we didn't have a knut to our name. And future Death Eater? The minute my father died, they didn't give two shits about who he left behind."

Harry stared, shocked. Was he just as bad as those he despised, assuming he knew it all because of someone's last name? Everything, from the clipped words to the taut muscles to the clenching hands to the revulsion in Eric's eyes, spoke of barely contained rage. Against Death Eaters, against Voldemort, against Greyback, against himself, even. And then Harry made a snap decision.

"Then how about you stop feeling sorry for yourself and actually do something?" _Did that really just come out of my mouth?_

"What should I do?" Eric snarled. "I have no family, I have no friends, I'll never be able to get a job, to be normal."

Harry gestured at Remus, who stood stock still between the two as if a barrier. "Remus was five when he was bitten. Five. Hadn't even begun to live. And he is one of the best men I know. Yeah, he has it hard, but he has people who love him and a cause to fight for." Remus made to speak, but Harry kept going before he lost steam. "You think I have a perfect life? That I'm normal? I've lost both my parents and my godfather to Voldemort. He personally tried to kill me five times. He tortured me with the Cruciatus. He killed a friend in front of my eyes simply because he was in the way. You're not the only one with a grudge."

Remus glanced from one to the other warily, Harry cautious, Eric distrustful. Finally the older boy spun around and gripped the countertop, and Harry allowed himself to breathe, as it didn't appear his life was in danger any longer. He didn't know what had come over him, had no idea, even, where the words had come from. He was just as surprised as Remus and Eric about what had just happened.

"How about I make some dinner?" Remus said quietly, and the kitchen was silent for a long time beyond the noises of cooking.

The three sat to a simple meal of split pea and ham soup. Eric remained silent, casting measured glances at Harry as if sizing him up. Remus and Harry talked quietly about the Order, making plans about arrange a meeting over the holiday. Finally deciding that Tonks wasn't coming back, Remus prepared to take Harry back to the Tonkses'.

"I'll be back in just a minute," he told Eric, who jerked his head in a nod.

Harry and Eric exchanged a glance, but there was nothing more to say. He was obviously fighting his own inner battles.

Remus escorted Harry via side-along apparition, just as Tonks had. Harry couldn't wait to come of age in July and travel on his own, although he figured he'd probably be guarded even more since that was when his mother's protection over him dropped. At the door, Remus turned back to Harry after they said their goodbyes.

"Please don't take this wrong way, but be careful with Tonks."

Again, Ron's words returned to haunt Harry. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

"She's quite a bit older than you, and at your age … I hope you aren't getting in over your head."

"I can handle it."

Remus nodded. "I'm sure you can. And Harry? Thank you for what you said earlier."

"You're welcome. I hope I wasn't too harsh. It was like I wasn't in control of what I was saying."

"I actually think it will be good for him."

Harry walked in quietly, hoping to see Tonks, but all he found was Ted in the living room watching the news on the television.

"Hello, Harry. We wondered what you two were up to." Ted glanced behind Harry, his face turning puzzled. "Where's Dora?"

"She's not back yet?"

Ted shut off the television, glancing at Harry with concern. "Back? From where?"

"Nymphadora's gone?" Andromeda appeared in the doorway from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.

"She was called into work hours ago. I've been with Remus Lupin." Harry looked between the two. "I assumed she was here by now."

"Well, these things can take a long time," Ted said, looking not at Harry but at his wife. "I'm sure she's alright."

"Of course she is," Andromeda replied a bit shortly. She turned her gaze to Harry as if noticing him for the first time. "Are you hungry, dear? We've eaten, but I can make you whatever you'd like."

"No, thank you, I ate with Remus."

"Good, that's good."

Harry stayed up with the Tonkses as long as he could, determined to wait until the Auror returned. Ted was the first to depart, entreating his wife to accompany him. She declined and sat with a book in her lap as the clock moved on. Harry didn't see her turn a single page.

"Go to bed, Harry," she said softly, startling him out of a doze he wasn't aware of.

"I'm not –" A yawn nearly split his face in half.

Andromeda smiled. "Yes, you are. Go on."

Perhaps it was the two decades of mothering an unruly Metamorphmagus, but there was something about her voice, gentle yet adamant, that made Harry walk away without a word. He turned back near the top of the stairs; Andromeda still sat in an armchair, her book on the same page it had been all night.


	14. Christmas

**Christmas**

When Harry woke the following morning, he immediately threw back his blanket and walked to Tonks's room. One glance through her open door showed a still-made bed. With anxiety gnawing at his stomach, Harry dressed and made his way downstairs, smelling breakfast. Perhaps Ted and Andi had word from their daughter. As he entered the sitting room on his way to the kitchen, he stopped short, breathing a sigh of relief.

Tonks was fast asleep on the sofa, sprawled on her back with one still-booted foot hanging off the side. The other was bare, and Harry noticed a trail of various clothing leading from the foyer to the sofa, as if she had undressed in motion. He could make out one hand clenching her wand to her side, and her mouth was slightly open as she breathed rather noisily, quite possibly due to the cat curled up on her chest, glaring at Harry with golden eyes.

Grinning, Harry quietly stepped past. "Told you I don't want Nutella," she mumbled as he did. He jumped, startled, but her eyes remained closed, her hair a random mix of navy and yellow. Stifling a chuckle, he continued on his route.

"Good morning, Harry," Andromeda called from the stove.

"Good morning," he replied, much happier now that Tonks had returned safely. "Does Tonks, er, Dora normally crash on the sofa?"

"I wouldn't know, but she stumbled in around five, asleep before she even laid down. I don't think she noticed me at all."

"Knowing my daughter, she'll wake up when she smells the food," Ted contributed as his wife brought over eggs and bacon.

He was proven right by the time they wiped their plates clean. After a thump and a curse, a thoroughly bleary-eyed, rumpled Tonks stumbled into the kitchen, her hair completely flat on one side and sticking in all directions on the other.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Harry said cheerfully.

She mumbled something unintelligible, staring at the wall behind him as she fell into a seat. Draining the mug of coffee Ted slid her way, she alternately blinked and widened her eyes for a good minute or so before she looked around with a sleepy smile.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Andi said, smiling gently. "Would you like some breakfast?" Tonks nodded. "Eggs? Sausage? Bacon? Toast? Potatoes?"

"Yes," Tonks answered fervently, and they chuckled.

Harry was tempted into snagging a few more sausages although his stomach was nearly full to bursting. Mrs. Weasley had competition when it came to matters of the kitchen. Tonks filled her own plate with loads of everything and gulped a glass full of pumpkin juice before eating with unabashed enthusiasm.

"What are your plans for today?"Andromeda addressed them both.

He shrugged, but Tonks stopped chewing long enough to answer. "Sleep and shower, and then I need to do some Christmas shopping."

"Baby, it's Christmas Eve."

"Exactly. What about you, Harry?"

"I'm done with my shopping," he replied. "The teachers set us homework, so I suppose I'll start on that."

"At least someone doesn't procrastinate around here," Andi said approvingly.

"Let us know if you need any help, Harry," said Ted. "Well, let Dromeda know. She was Head Girl in our day."

Harry was impressed, although he supposed that as a Healer, she would have needed good marks.

"Oh, go on," Andi said modestly. "It's been years. I'm sure I don't remember a thing."

"Mum, don't be so humble. You're the only reason I passed my Potions N.E.W.T. As if Sevvie ever passed on anything useful."

"Perhaps if you had spent less time in detentions, you would have had more time to study."

"And take away all my fun?" Tonks laughed but quickly ceased, wincing as she held one hand to her ribs.

Like a hawk, Andi's eyes zeroed in on the offending noise. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Tonks protested impatiently, twisting away from her mother's probing hands. "Just a bruise is all. Sam took care of it."

Andromeda tutted, still attempting to pull up her daughter's shirt to check her for wounds. "Not to insult Samuel, for he's always taken good care of you, but those medi-Aurors aren't very thorough."

"I don't mind dealing with a few cuts and bruises if it means I'm dodging the curses. They don't have time to be neat," Tonks said, spilling her eggs while twisting away from Andi's probing hands.

Mother and daughter tussled for a moment until with a noise of impatience Tonks dropped her fork and removed her shirt completely, resuming her breakfast as if eating in nothing but a brassiere was a commonplace occurrence.

Clearly it was not. Andromeda exclaimed with exasperation, reversing her actions and attempting to put the shirt back on, while Tonks calmly explained that both now had what they wanted and could her mother please get on with whatever she was doing so she could eat in peace.

Harry froze. Her bra was electric blue and silky and curvy and, well, perky and – _Harry you idiot stop staring at her._ He dropped his face to his plate, so close the steam from the sausage fogged his glasses.

It was Ted who put an end to the row, folding his paper with a roll of his eyes. "Nymphadora, replace your shirt right now. This is ridiculous," he said sternly. "And Andromeda, let her eat. Clearly she isn't dying."

Amazingly, both women did just as he said with matching stubborn sets to their jaws, and Harry's initial comparison of Ted to Arthur Weasley was forever shattered.

"Harry," Ted began once everything was back to normal, Tonks still making astonishing amounts of food disappear and Andromeda cooking yet another dish. "Tonight is our annual family Christmas party at my parents' house. We'd love for you to come with, but if you're uncomfortable you're welcome to stay here or go visit a friend. Dora can take you wherever you'd like."

"Yes, apparently I'm your personal chauffeur, Harry," she said, giving her father a sidelong glance. "But do come with us."

"Um, well … sure," he decided. "That's nice, thank you."

Both were pleased. "Splendid," said Ted.

Finally clearing her plate, Tonks stood, stretching and yawning. "That's it for me. My bed is calling my –"

"Oh, bother!" Andi exclaimed crossly from the pantry.

"Problem, darling?"

"I promised I'd bring a Christmas cake tonight, and we're out of brandy. Ted, dear …"

"You want me to go to the market on Christmas Eve? Are you mad?"

"Well, someone must, and I'm really very tired after staying up so late –"

"No one said you had to," Tonks piped up.

"– I was hoping for a rest since we'll be out tonight. Please, Ted, for your loving wife who has never, ever asked you to go to a Black family gathering although I attend yours every year?"

"Bit of a difference there, love," Ted said even as he stood. He winked at Harry. "Watch these two, son. They could talk you out of your vault if they had a mind to."

"I'm very aware of that," he replied, grinning when he caught Tonks' eye.

After Ted departed and Andi retired to her bedroom, Tonks and Harry cleaned their breakfast dishes and headed upstairs. She slid her arm around his waist, leaning into him, and he felt a stiffness to her gait.

"Sorry about last night," she said quietly. "We'll plan another."

"It's okay." He paused, not knowing if he could ask, but then she spoke.

"Death Eater attack up in Glasgow. Apparently the owner of an apothecary got on their bad side, and things quickly got out of hand. Bloody mess. Those damn pamphlets the Ministry sent out over the summer aren't doing a lick of good; no one can defend themselves properly, and we can't be everywhere."

Harry pulled her closer. "So, rough night?"

She smiled wearily. "I've had worse. And this is what I signed up for. I don't mind the duels, I just wish I felt like I accomplished something. And then there's the exhaustion that comes later."

"I noticed. Bedroom too far to walk?"

She laughed. "There was no way I was climbing the stairs. I aimed for the first semi-cushioned surface in sight." Having reached her room, Tonks sank onto her bed with a sigh, rubbing her side again.

Harry took a seat next to her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine. Just a bruised rib is all. I'll take a potion later. My head hurts, but sleep will fix that."

"Where does it hurt?" he asked. Knitting her brow, she tapped her forehead. Harry leaned forward, lightly kissing the place she indicated. "Anywhere else?"

"Here." She pointed at her jaw, a small smile spreading across her face. He kissed her jaw, and she pointed to her neck. "And here." She indicated her lips. "And here, really here."

"How bad?"

"Terrible …"

**oOo**

"Quit fidgeting, you're quite dashing," Tonks said, tightening her grip on Harry's hand as they walked up the drive to Ted's parents' home, Ted and Andi in front of them (Christmas cake in hand).

Harry tugged at the collar of his blue shirt. "Yeah?"

"You should dress up more often."

"I don't know about that." Unlike Tonks, who seemed as at home in her black skirt and red jumper as she did in torn jeans and a Quidditch jersey, Harry was distinctly uncomfortable in the brand-new slacks she'd picked out.

His discomfort increased when they entered the house. Ted had a large family, many with his fair hair and round face, and all converged on them as soon as they walked in. Harry never felt at ease around strangers, this group particularly so. All were Muggles, and according to Tonks only part of the family knew of magic. What would he say when they asked him questions? Did they know he was only sixteen?

"Bit overwhelming, isn't it?" Andi said in a low voice.

Harry turned around, grateful for a familiar face. "Understatement."

"They're all perfectly nice. And you have an advantage over me; think of how it was to come here after a life of proper pureblood affairs. Not a house-elf in sight."

Harry laughed. That, at least, was true.

"Dora, Dora, Dora!"

A small girl broke through the crowd, throwing herself at Tonks, who tossed her up in the air before giving her a tight hug. The girl squealed with delight.

Tonks made her way back to Harry's side. "Harry, this is Emma. Don't tell anyone, but she's my favorite cousin."

"Hello, Emma," he said.

She regarded him for a long moment with wide blue eyes before burying her face in Tonks' shoulder.

"Oh, someone's shy today," Tonks teased, winking at Harry. "I think she likes you, babe."

She pulled Harry with her, small child still attached. He met relative after relative, forgetting names as soon as he heard them, except for Adam, the cousin he'd seen in the picture at Hogwarts. They were a jolly lot, and though clearly curious, none made Harry feel unwelcome or ill at ease. Like Ted, the entire family called Tonks 'Dora', and it was struggle to remind himself to refer to her as such, since she was clearly not the only Tonks here.

Dinner was a lavish affair, course after course sent his way. Harry stuffed himself with roast turkey, ham, potatoes, parsnips, sausages, cranberry sauce, and more vegetables than he could count. Just when he thought he couldn't handle anything more, dessert was served, and Harry was forced to make room for Christmas cake and pudding and trifle.

Afterward the adults retired to rub their stomachs, pull Christmas crackers, and sip wine (Harry stopped after two glasses, lightheaded). Gifts were exchanged amongst the children, and the house grew alight with high-pitched squeals and bits of brightly colored gift-wrap. They began to split into various groups, and when Tonks excused herself, Harry found himself in the library with several of her cousins. Fortunately, he found a way to answer questions about himself without lying or revealing too much. Everyone seemed satisfied, and Harry was glancing at a collection of Shakespeare when he heard an unfamiliar, female voice behind him.

"You like Shakespeare?"

He turned around. "Er, I have an interest," he answered.

A smiling young woman with a sheet of long blonde hair took a step closer, extending her hand while her eyes ran up and down. There was something too much about her smile. "I don't believe we officially met. I'm Emily."

Harry reached out to take her hand. "I'm –"

"– with me." A different hand took his before he could grasp Emily's. Tonks offered a very dazzling, very fake smile, her eyes hard. "Hello, Emily."

"Hello, Dora." She cast an eye at Harry's hand, still firmly clenched by Tonks. "Possessive as always, I see."

Tonks smirked. "I just don't want him to get slag on his hands. I hear it's hard to wash off."

Harry took a step backward. Tonks' tone was laced with malice, the barbed words she and her cousin continued to trade a demonstration of spite he'd never seen her display.

"That's it, back away slowly, mate," a low voice said over his shoulder.

A few of her male cousins beckoned him out of the room. He followed them down the hall and into the kitchen, where they pried open containers of leftovers.

"Ten quid on Dora if they get into it again," said Adam, offering ham to Harry.

"Does this happen often?" Harry asked, declining.

One laughed. "Dora and Emily are only a month apart. They've never gotten along, but a few years ago they actually got into a fight. I mean to say, fists flying, hair yanking fight. They had to be pulled apart. It was brilliant."

"What happened?"

"Oh, there was some bloke involved. A friend of Emily's that Dora dated. Or was it the other way around?

"I thought Aunt Andi was going to murder her." Adam laughed. "It was worse than the time we snuck a bottle of vodka to the basement during Granny Tonks' birthday party and got pissed."

Harry smiled, for he could see her doing that, but something struck him about Tonks arguing with her cousin over a boy. He racked his brain; a detail was eluding him, but he couldn't place it. Shrugging it off, he accepted a soft drink, sipping absentmindedly.

"Should we check on them?" he asked.

One of the older ones waved him off. "Nah, we haven't heard screams yet. Best to let them get sorted on their own."

"Which is what Uncle Ted and Uncle Connor should have done last time," Adam stated. "Dora would have mauled her."

"I can't believe you side against your own sister."

Adam held up his hands in defense. "I love Emily, but I grew up in the same house with her. I know better than anyone how mean she can be."

Harry chuckled. He never would have taken the lascivious girl and this easy-going man for siblings, even if there was a distinct resemblance. Draining his drink, he threw it away. "I think I'll go find Dora now."

"Watch out for the catfight," someone advised to much laughter.

Another clapped a meaty hand on his shoulder before he left. "Be good to Dora, yeah? She doesn't have any brothers, so it's up to us to watch out for her."

"Wouldn't dream otherwise," Harry promised.

When he returned to the library, no one was to be found. He followed the sounds of childish laughter down the hall, where he came upon an interesting sight. Tonks dashed around the room with three small children. All four held drinking straws, brandishing them like swords and laughing loudly.

"I got you! I got you, Lucy!" the boy yelled. The girl named Lucy fell back on the sofa with a cry, where she lay not quite still, giggling.

"Come on, Davey!" Emma cried, chasing Tonks. "Help me get Dora!"

The boy joined in the pursuit, thrusting his straw forward. Tonks 'parried', backing up until she tripped on a table.

Emma waved her straw wildly, nowhere near Tonks, but apparently she landed a blow. "Haha! Got you, Dora!"

Tonks let out an exaggerated moan, stumbling drunkenly as she held her hand over her heart. After a very drawn-out death scene, she finally collapsed on the floor, letting her tongue hang out with a final groan and twitch.

"We won! We won!" Emma and Davey shouted, jumping up and down together. Alive once again, Lucy joined in, but Tonks stayed where she was, unmoving.

"Um, Dora?" Davey called uncertainly. "It's just a game. You can get up now."

Tonks didn't move. "Dora, get up," Emma said, shaking her hand when Tonks still didn't budge. Emma turned to her cousins with her hands over her mouth, eyes wide as saucers. "I think we killed her."

Tonks groaned faintly, and all three kids whirled around. "Help … me," she wheezed. "Need … kiss …"

With a gasp, Emma leaned down and kissed Tonks' cheek noisily.

"No …" Tonks moaned. "From … a prince."

"But we don't know a prince," Lucy wailed. It was all Harry could do not to laugh.

Emma looked around frantically, spotting Harry at the door. She ran to him as fast as her short legs would go and grabbed his hand, pulling him to Tonks. "You have to help her, Harry," she begged. "Are you a prince?"

"I don't know, but I guess I can try," replied Harry gamely.

He knelt by Tonks' side, pillowing the auburn head on his knees. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Cupping her face in his hands, Harry leaned down and softly pressed his lips to hers. When he pulled back, her eyes fluttered open, and a wide grin split her face.

"I'm alive!" she exclaimed, springing to her feet.

Davey and Lucy yelled joyfully, each hugging one of her legs, but Emma stared at Harry in awe. "Harry, are you truly a prince?" she whispered.

"He must be," Tonks said, sliding her arms around his waist. "My hero." She batted her eyelashes and kissed him on the cheek, winking.

When the children resumed their game, Tonks and Harry slipped away, walking down the hall with their arms around each other.

"Sorry, about earlier," Tonks said suddenly. "Emily's the spawn of Satan, and she brings out the worst in me."

"So I heard."

She groaned. "Whatever they told you, it's not true. Or I was young and stupid."

"As opposed to the wise matron I see before me?"

"Precisely." They shared a laugh, and Harry planted a kiss in her hair. "But in all seriousness, thank you for coming. Everyone really likes you."

"I've actually had a nice night."

"You trying to stay on my good side?"

"Something like that."

Tonks stopped, flicking a glance in either direction before pushing him toward the wall. "Little do you know I'm bad all over …"

Her lips were on his neck, and Harry froze, certain this was not something to be doing in anybody's grandmother's house no matter how enjoyable it was. He tried to say something, but Tonks shushed him, moving her mouth to press against his and slipping her tongue inside with ease. Harry gave in, his heart beating rapidly against the lithe body he pulled close.

"Do you want to get out of here?" she murmured in his ear when they parted for air. Not trusting himself to speak, Harry nodded.

They said quick goodbyes to her family, told her parents she was tired after her long night, pried a crying Emma off her leg, and apparated back to her house in no time at all.

Tonks was all over him the minute the door shut. This was nothing like the leisurely kisses they exchanged when stretched in front of the fire; this was a fierce hunger that built in his belly and spread all over, leaving him with a desire that couldn't be quenched no matter how much his lips traveled over her mouth, cheeks, jaw, neck. When his hands spanned her waist and she lifted her arms, he didn't hesitate in pulling the jumper over her head, discarding it on the floor along with their shoes.

Harry groaned at the sight of that blue bra he couldn't stop thinking about and immediately pressed kisses on her shoulders, enjoying the gasp he received. Merlin, her skin was so warm. Tonks began unbuttoning his shirt before stopping in impatience and yanking it over his head, immediately claiming his lips again. There wasn't enough air in the world, and he never wanted it to stop.

She whispered something that Harry couldn't make out over the roaring in his ears, but he got the gist of it when they began to stumble up the stairs, hampered by their clenching embrace and wandering mouths. Tonks was pinned against the wall, knocking a vase over, and then suddenly he was the one with the wall at his back as her hands roamed his chest. Then they were on his bed, Tonks pushing him down and straddling his waist. Harry couldn't believe this was happening; his pulse raced and flames licked at his skin when her fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt –

The unmistakable sound of a door swinging shut made both jump, and Tonks was off his bed and headed for the door before Harry knew what was happening.

"Have to take a rain check," she said, the most wicked smile on her face, and then she was gone.

Harry stared at the ceiling for a few moments, letting his rise and fall of his chest slowly return to normal. The situation had ended as quickly as it escalated, and his head was still spinning. Not for the first time, Harry compared Parvati and Tonks. Parvati had been willing enough to initiate snogging, but they had never gone further than that. In fact, Harry used to spend most of the time wondering what to do with his hands. Tonks didn't make a secret of what she wanted, and Harry didn't think at all when they were together.

It was, he supposed as he began to change, simply part of messing around with an older woman. Not that he minded, or so he thought. Harry squashed any and all doubts about the speed of the relationship as he placed his clothes in the laundry bin. From his first day here, his dirty clothing had a way of disappearing and then reappearing in clean piles inside his wardrobe, although he was supremely embarrassed when neatly folded underpants were on top. Searching for the shirt he'd worn, Harry came to an awful realization.

It was still downstairs. With, unless Tonks had picked them up, various other pieces of clothing in a clear trail to his bedroom. Harry sped down, but no clothing nor out of place furniture was to be found. Assuming Tonks had cleaned and sighing with relief, he turned to return to his bed.

"Looking for this?"

Gritting his teeth, Harry turned around to see Ted in his armchair, holding up a rumbled blue shirt. Harry's shirt.

"Have a seat, son."

Accepting the offending article, Harry did so, mentally preparing himself for the upcoming conversation. Harry very much desired to stay on Ted's good side, as much because he genuinely liked Ted and Andi as because he wanted to continue seeing their daughter. He couldn't, however, say he was nervous; after facing Dark wizards, protective parents didn't offer much of a threat.

"Are you in love with my daughter, Harry?" Ted finally said.

That was unexpected. Thrown off balance, Harry scrambled for a truthful answer. "No, I don't think so," he replied honestly.

"I see."

"But I think I could, someday," Harry amended quickly. "I just – well, I'm not sure."

Ted smiled. "Relax, son. I'm not going to give you the 'hurt my daughter and I'll break your neck' speech. Dora is more capable of taking care of herself than I am, and from what she says, so are you."

"Oh. Okay."

"I just want to tell you two things. First, I hope that you understand what you're getting into with Dora." He shifted position, clearing his throat. "Although neither she nor her mother will admit it, she takes after Dromeda's family much more than mine. She's ruled by passion, and passion is a tricky bedfellow. Dora lives by her own rules, and unfortunately we probably encouraged that when she was a child. I can't say we didn't indulge her a little too often."

Harry frowned. "So you're saying that at some point in time, Tonks – Dora – will just … what? Change her mind?" _As suddenly as we started_, he added silently.

"Not at all. I'm giving you friendly advice, Harry. I adore my wife and my daughter, but I also know they can be hard to deal with if they choose. I'd hate to see either one of you get hurt. And I'm not going to lie – you're sixteen, and she's twenty-two. That's a big difference at your age, in both experience and expectations, and I won't pretend that it doesn't make me uncomfortable." He held up one hand. "I'm not objecting. She's a grown woman and can date whomever she wants, and you're a fine young man."

"Thank you, sir."

Ted smiled. "Just calling it how I see it. And onto more unpleasant manners …" He nodded at the shirt in Harry's hands, and Harry flushed. "As I said, she's an adult, and it's her life. But it's still my house, Harry. Keep that in mind."

"Yes, sir," he said respectfully, all but squirming.

Ted chuckled as he stood, winking as he passed. "It's Ted, son. Goodnight."

Harry watched him leave, fiddling with the shirt under his fingers. That was not the conversation he expected to have, and as he headed for the stairs, he felt a surge of new respect for Ted Tonks.

**oOo**

"Happy Christmas, Harry!"

"Mmnfff …"

"Out of bed, sleepyhead."

Harry reluctantly forced his eyes open, groping for his glasses on the nightstand. A fuzzy figure on the foot of his bed sharpened into Tonks, smiling brightly in the early morning light that filtered through the curtained window. Harry clenched his blanket in his hands, wishing he had chosen to sleep in more than just his pants.

Unaware of (or simply ignoring) his discomfort, Tonks climbed forward to place a kiss on his cheek. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Happy Christmas, Do–, er, Tonks. How many cups of coffee have you had?"

"Two." That explained a lot. "Here, I brought you one, my special blend. I made breakfast, so dress and come downstairs."

In the kitchen he found Ted and Andi in dressing gowns with half-smiles and warm mugs of coffee while Tonks placed tall stacks of pancakes on the table. As they ate (and wakened), Harry had to admit Tonks was right – she could cook. It was delicious, and it was with satisfyingly full bellies that they exchanged presents.

The rest of Christmas morning passed agreeably. Ted and Andi were genuinely appreciative of the gifts he'd purchased under Tonks' guidance, and in exchange they gave him a thick wool coat, something greatly needed given that his current jacket was a leftover of Dudley's riddled with holes. For her part, Tonks surprised him with a pair of tickets to a Puddlemere United–Chudley Cannons match during the summer, and both laughed when he handed her a pair of tickets for a Weird Sisters concert for the weekend following.

Around midday Harry stood looking outside into the garden and sipping hot cocoa. The Tonkses were as kind as the Weasleys had ever been, but something was missing. Something that separated him from the little traditions and idiosyncrasies every family shared.

He smiled when a warm hand touched his back. "No brooding allowed on Christmas, babe," Tonks said, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"I'm not brooding."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You're always brooding. You brood and I tease. It's how we work. What are you thinking about?"

"Last Christmas." He paused. "Sirius was so happy."

"He was always happy when you were around." She kissed his cheek, and they stood quietly for a long moment before Tonks nudged him. "_God rest ye merry hippogriffs_," she sang in an exaggeratedly deep voice. "_And let's all get laid_."

"Those aren't the words!" he exclaimed, laughing.

"They were when Sirius and I were wand deep in a bottle of firewhiskey. C'mon."

Tonks dragged Harry back to the living room where she prodded her mother to tell stories of Sirius, from their childhoods all the way until he left for Azkaban. That, of course, led to more, and soon scrapbooks appeared. Halfway through one when Tonks was a little girl, Harry turned the page and stared in surprise at a picture of his father with a turquoise-plaited girl sitting on his lap.

"You didn't tell me you knew my parents," he said, glancing at Tonks.

"Well, I didn't, really. Your dad came round with Sirius a few times. Sirius and Remus babysat me once. Remember, Mum? I got lost at the zoo."

"How could I forget?" she answered dryly. "They found you with the elephants, and I didn't speak to Sirius for weeks."

Ted grinned. "I'm surprised you don't remember Harry's father better. If I recall correctly, you were determined to marry him."

"What?" Harry blurted out.

Tonks buried her face in her hands. "Oh Merlin," she mumbled.

"That's right," Andromeda mused, smiling at her daughter's discomfiture. "I had forgotten. Harry, she followed your father wherever he went, dragging a stuffed wolf Remus gave her, and insisted on sitting next to him at all times. James brought your mother over once, and Nymphadora had a conniption."

"Mother! Must you?"

Tonks was ignored. "Lily, bless her, was quite amused. She told Nymphadora they'd have to duel for him, and then my daughter, too smart for her own good, stole my wand when I wasn't looking, marched right up to her, and waved it wildly, turning everyone's hair purple."

"Pink," Tonks ground out with a look that could kill. "If you insist on telling the bloody story, get it right. Pink. It was the same color as mine."

"So you do remember," Harry accused her, greatly amused. "Then what happened?"

"I put her in time-out. She screamed, threw her shoe at me, received a spanking, and was sent to her room where she had a temper tantrum until James said he couldn't kiss her goodbye if she was crying." Andromeda sighed. "I've never been so mortified."

"Now I know how you felt," muttered Tonks, and even she finally joined in the laughter.

Later, Harry caught Tonks in the hallway before she went to bed. "Why didn't you tell me you fancied my dad?"

"Merlin, Harry, I barely remember. If you want to know about every childhood crush I had, we'll be here for a long time."

"Is that why you like me?" Harry teased. "Because I look like my father?"

"But of course. I'm living out the fantasies I had when I was a four-year-old." Tonks made a face before leaning in to kiss his nose, her brown eyes shining when she pulled back. "I like you because I can make you smile, and you don't smile enough."

Harry pulled her close for a deep kiss, telling himself he wasn't going to worry about her motives any longer.

**oOo**

Boxing Day dawned cold and windy. A thick layer of snow had appeared overnight and continued to fall. Undeterred by the inclement weather, Tonks dragged Harry out after breakfast. They meandered aimlessly, her arm in his and heads bent together in an intimate fashion.

They came upon a group of excited children riding plastic sledges down a gentle hill, ending well before the snow bank that had been pushed up on the edge of a road. Tonks and Harry stopped for a moment to watch, and as they were about to leave, a boy ran up.

"Hey miss! You wanna have a go?"

Harry saw the spark of challenge in her eyes as soon as she glanced at him, but with a smile she turned back to the boy and demurred.

"Go on, miss!" he insisted. "You ain't scared, are ya?"

That, of course, was the match to the kindling, and before Harry knew what was happening, Tonks was pulling him over to the bright red sledge. "No way," he protested.

"Don't be a chicken, Harry," she replied blithely, pushing him down onto the sledge as she was encouraged by the kids.

Tonks settled in front of him. Harry thought he heard her whisper something, but before he could ask the kids gave them a push and they were off.

_It's not so bad_, he thought, the air filtered with the sound of Tonks' laughter flashing past him as stray purple hair fluttered in his face. About halfway down the slope, he grew concerned. They were beginning to fly past the others, and when they hit a slight bump he swore they went airborne. Faster and faster they went, picking up speed even as the slope leveled out. The normal stopping point flew past, the ride bumpy due to the lack of worn paths. And suddenly the embankment of snow grew larger and larger, until –

"Shit!" Harry yelled as they crashed into it.

He didn't know which way was up or down as two sets of limbs were tossed in the air, the sledge shooting off into the distance. When gravity reasserted itself, Harry found himself face down in a pile of snow, arms and legs akimbo. He sat up dizzily, wiping the snow off his glasses. What had she done to the bloody sledge? And where was she?

A spitting noise drew his attention, and Harry turned around to see Tonks on the other side of the bank, clearing her mouthful of snow. She'd completely lost her scarf and her hat was sideways, but her expression was pure glee.

"What did you do?" he said in a low voice, mindful of the approaching group of children.

"Nothing," she replied with an all too innocent face. "Only sped it up a little. Perhaps I overdid it."

"How did that happen?" the sledge's owner asked, awed.

Tonks shrugged and glanced at Harry. "Physics," he said. "We weigh more."

"That was brilliant!"

"Yeah. Hey, thanks for that," Tonks said as she stood on wobbly legs, nearly toppling over.

Harry slipped a steadying arm over her shoulders as they left. "When was the last time I told you you're mental?"

"I'd say you're due."

"You're mental. Cute, but mental."

After lunch Tonks and Harry apparated to Hermione's house in Oxfordshire, something he and Hermione had arranged days before. He was curious to see where she grew up – he expected a neat place with many books, and with luck, he'd hear embarrassing stories about her childhood, too.

"Harry!" Hermione greeted him at the door with a hug. "Hi, Tonks."

"Wotcher, Hermione." The home was nearly Dursley-immaculate with a number of knick knacks which Tonks gave a wide berth.

"Mum, Dad, you remember Harry. And this is Tonks, another friend of mine."

They greeted each other courteously. Harry had met the Grangers but only in passing, in Diagon Alley or at King's Cross. He decided Hermione favored her father more than her mother.

"Do you attend Hogwarts, too?" Mr. Granger asked Tonks.

"No, I finished a few years ago. I'm an Auror now."

"Oh, what's that?" Mrs. Granger asked with polite interest.

"I work in law enforcement, but it's more specialized than your average policeman. You see …"

Tonks led the Grangers into their living room, chatting away. Left behind, Harry and Hermione exchanged an amused look.

"She makes friends wherever she goes," Harry remarked.

"They're always quite keen to hear more about the wizarding world. I think they find it hard to relate. Come on, I'll show you my room."

Hermione's room, as predicted, was neat and proper. A flowered quilt covered the bed, and two bookcases were filled with tomes ranging from dog-eared paperbacks to volumes the size of encyclopedias. Harry fingered a few ribbons and trophies from her primary school days, resisting the urge to laugh when she carefully rearranged a ribbon he pulled loose.

He pointed to a wall hanging of the University of Cambridge crest. "Cambridge?"

"When I was a kid, it was my dream to go there." Hermione smiled. "I suppose not anymore."

"Why not?" Harry countered, sitting in her desk chair. "Think they could convert N.E.W.T.'s to A-levels?"

She laughed. "Can you imagine a Muggle trying to make sense of advanced ancient runes or arithmancy? I don't think university is for me anymore. I'd like to go into the Ministry and really make a difference, you know?"

"You could bring Dobby in as a case study," suggested Harry, trying not to snigger. Hermione's eager ambitions for house-elf reform were well-known and just slightly too aggressive.

"Shut it, Harry." The clinking of breaking glass echoed down the hall, and they shared a smile, knowing the source. "So, how is your holiday?"

He shrugged. "Can't complain. Tonks likes to go shopping, so we've been to London a few times, and we watch a lot of films. She made me watch all three Star Wars movies in one day."

"You spend all your time with Tonks?"

He grinned, looking away. "Most of it."

"Isn't she a bit old for you?"

"Only six years," he retorted. "Not too much. What happened to good luck?"

"I meant it," she hastily replied. "I just hope others don't give you a hard time."

"I don't care what others say." There was an awkward, stretched-out silence. "Um, how's your holiday, Hermione?"

"Good," she said quickly. "We took the ferry over to Calais for a day, which was nice. I finished my homework early, so Mum and Dad let me go to Diagon Alley and get a new book on numerology."

Only for Hermione would that be a boon. "I've done most of my homework," Harry said.

She raised her eyebrows. "Really? I'm surprised."

"Well, I might have had help," he admitted with a grin. "Tonks is good at Transfiguration and DADA, and her mum helped me with Herbology and Potions. I never realized how much they go hand in hand. Potions are much easier if you know that fluxweed has healing properties instead of just remembering it goes into Polyjuice Potion."

"Not even your precious Half-Blood Prince book taught you that, did it?"

"Give it up, Hermione. You know Slughorn took it away weeks ago." Irritated by her refusal to forget about the edited book, Harry stood, a framed picture on the desk grabbing his attention. It was the three of them – Harry, Ron, and Hermione – at the Burrow before the Quidditch World Cup. His stomach stirred uncomfortably.

"Have you spoken to him?" Her voice was soft, hesitant.

"No."

"Are you planning on it?"

"I already told you I would apologize for hexing him."

"No, I mean … really talk." She sighed. "I know you miss each other."

He rolled his eyes. "Hermione, we're blokes. Ron and I are not pining away for each other. Besides, I have you and Neville and Luna." _Even if it's not the same._

"You are both so ridiculously stubborn!" she burst out. "Harry, tell me the honest truth: why aren't you talking to Ron?"

"Because … because he's jealous of things that are out of my control. Because he won't listen to anything I say." Harry struggled to put his animosity into words.

Hermione scoffed audibly. "I admit Ron gets jealous easily. It's one of his flaws, but I'm not going to end our friendship over it. Does it really outweigh all his good qualities?"

"You thought his accusations against Crookshanks were enough to never speak to him again."

"Crookshanks didn't eat the rat!" she snapped petulantly. "And too bad he didn't. Plus, that was three years ago." She leveled her gaze at him. "As for the second: you won't make a very good leader or a very good friend if you expect your friends to never question what you say. I've done it, and you aren't upset with me."

"It's different with you."

"Oh." She took a step backward. "Because my opinion doesn't matter as much."

"No! That's not what I meant!" he hurried to correct. "You're brilliant, Hermione. I'd probably be dead without you."

"Actually, I would have died in the girls' bathroom with the troll first year." They smiled in remembrance. "We can call it even."

"Hermione, tea's on!" Mrs. Granger called from the front of the house.

"Coming, Mum!" she replied before turning back to Harry. "Just try to talk to him, okay? You're both my best friends. And just so you know, I sent him a letter with the same advice," she said before he could object. "It's on both of you."

Harry mumbled something in acquiescence. What he hadn't told Hermione was that even if he could get Ron to talk to him, he didn't know if he could handle his temper again. Matters had spiraled out of control so quickly last time, and the last thing he wanted was to make it worse.

"Look, Hermione, she can change her face," exclaimed Mr. Granger.

Hermione smiled as Tonks grinned at them with the ever-popular pig nose. "Yes, Dad, I know."

"Tell me, is that common?" he persisted.

"Not at all," Tonks said, shifting to one that was so sharp it could have cut glass. "I'm very special." Harry laughed at this factual declaration as he sat next to her.

Mrs. Granger served them tea and biscuits with a tolerant smile that didn't quite mesh with the anxiety in her eyes. "Yes, it's quite interesting, but, er … Hermione, darling, why didn't you tell us about this dark lord?"

The room fell deathly silent; Harry listened for the proverbial crickets, sneaking a glance at Tonks out of the corner of his eye. Her heart-shaped face was an interesting mix of guilt and surprise.

Hermione, apparently, was not only unsurprised, but she had been expecting it. "Actually, that's part of the reason I invited Harry and Tonks to visit. Mum, Dad, we need to talk."

With a captive audience, Hermione began the story of Lord Voldemort, the Order of the Phoenix, and her involvement. From the deaths' of Harry's parents to the final task of the Triwizard Tournament to a very glossed-over Department of Mysteries, her parents reacted with varying degrees of shock, confirming Harry's long suspicion that while they had some inkling as to their daughter's activities at Hogwarts, they had no idea as to the magnitude of danger.

"That settles it," Mr. Granger said definitively when she finished. "You're not going back."

"Dad, I have to finish."

"I don't understand – why is this man after Harry?" Mrs. Granger asked in confusion.

All looked to him. Harry shifted awkwardly. "It's a rather long story, but at this point in time I've escaped him so often he'll stop at nothing until one of us defeats the other. He can hold a bit of a grudge." Tonks was the only one who appreciated this humor.

Mr. Granger was unmoved. "I don't care. You're not going back, and that's final. I never imagined you would be in this kind of danger. What sort of school is this anyway, that allows students to be in harm's way all the time?"

Tonks spoke up. "If I may … Hermione's experience is unusual. I survived seven years with no injuries other than those I caused myself. But I won't deny that it is a dangerous time to be a witch."

"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Granger.

When Hermione gave her an encouraging nod, Tonks continued. "I mentioned Voldemort on the fly earlier. He is the most talented dark wizards in modern times. Imagine a wizard version of … who was that German nutter during World War II?"

"Hitler."

"Right. That bloke. He's very powerful, gaining allies every day, and he has an extreme prejudice against Muggle-borns such as Hermione. There are wizards who believe in maintaining the purity of blood; that is, only marrying other witches and wizards, and not allowing Muggle-borns into Hogwarts. My own mother was disinherited from her family for marrying a Muggle-born. Hermione, unfortunately, has the added danger of being friends with Harry, who is Voldemort's most hated enemy."

Harry's stomach clenched in knots. Another person's life in danger simply because they were associated with him.

As if reading his mind, both girls shook their heads. "Don't be stupid, Harry," Tonks muttered at the same time Hermione said, "Harry, I already told you. I'm with you all the way."

Harry smiled gratefully at both. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, believe me, if I could keep Hermione out of harm, I would."

"He would," Tonks interjected. "He's one of those self-sacrificing gits."

Squeezing her hand, he continued. "But the fact is that no matter if she attends Hogwarts or not, she's still at risk simply for who she is. Hogwarts, in fact, is the safest place to be these days."

"It really is," Tonks confirmed when they looked to her. Clearly she had earned some manner of trust from the Grangers in her position as an Auror, and Harry deduced that was what Hermione had planned. "Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, is the only one Voldemort fears, and he leads the movement against him."

"And that brings me to what I really want to talk about," said Hermione. She clasped her hands anxiously before continuing. "Mum, Dad, I want you to consider going into hiding."

Mrs. Granger simply blinked. Mr. Granger worked his jaw several times before anything emerged. "Hiding? Whatever for?"

"I'm in the thick of it now, and I'm afraid it's only going to get worse. You aren't safe. They hate Muggles, Dad."

"But what could they possibly –"

"They would do it," Harry interrupted, staring at a fixed spot on the table, barely aware of Tonks' hand on his back. "Believe me. Because they'll think you might know something, or because it would draw Hermione, because it would be a way to get to me. She's right."

A look passed between Hermione's parents, two people clearly struggling to understand a foreign world that had seeped into their own. The worry etched on their faces brought to mind Andromeda, sitting up all night not reading a book until her own child returned safe and sound.

"Can we help?" Mrs. Granger finally asked.

Tonks furrowed her brow. "I'm sorry?"

"Surely we could do something. We may not use magic, but there must be something we can do. We're not letting you run off, Hermione. You're still a child. You're our child."

"Mum," began Hermione, but Tonks held up a hand.

"The Order of the Phoenix – that's the group that opposes him, I'm a member and these two practically are – will do all we can to protect you. It would probably be best if you left the country, but if you insist on staying, we can set up a safe house."

"And we would have to leave everything behind?" Mr. Granger asked, in a daze.

"More or less, yes. Do you have a piece of parchment, I mean, paper?" Mrs. Granger fetched some stationary and Tonks scribbled on it. "Here's the address of my parents' house and their telephone number. My Dad's family are Muggles, so they know how to use it. If you have any questions, contact them, and they'll get it to me. I mean it, okay? And Hermione, there's a meeting of the Order in a few days. A very important meeting you should probably attend. We can talk about this again then."

It became clear that Hermione's parents needed time to process the information and settle their upside-down world, as well as talk to their daughter privately. Tonks and Harry said their goodbyes, and Hermione saw them out.

"Thanks for the bloody ambush, Hermione," Tonks muttered once they were outside.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't know how to bring it up. You actually laid the groundwork for me quite well. Thank you so much, really. I worry about them."

"We'll keep them safe, Hermione," said Tonks firmly, and Harry nodded. "You have my word."

Harry put his hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, I …"

She nodded. "I know, Harry. I'll see you at school."

Before they apparated away, Tonks took Harry's face in her hands. "Do I need to talk you down from some 'this is all my fault' bullshit?"

He smiled involuntarily. "No. I just … I hate this. It shouldn't have to be this way."

"Isn't that why we fight?"


	15. Stand

**Stand**

"Do you think anyone is going to show?" Harry asked Tonks quietly.

Weeks' worth of letters and discreet conversations had led to this night. A direct result of Harry's first doomed meeting with the Order of the Phoenix, an offer was extended to those dissatisfied with the current temperature of the Order to meet. Harry grew more and more nervous as the date approached, something akin to his feeling before the initial meeting of the DA but on a much larger stage. Tonight was a double-edged sword – while he would be gaining allies and taking another step toward his inevitable confrontation with Voldemort, he was also risking his reconciliation with Dumbledore.

"They will, babe. Don't worry so much, you're too young for that," she reassured him, affectionately brushing at a stray piece of his hair. "Do you know what you're going to say?"

He nodded. "Pretty much. I – " He broke off as a distinct knock sounded from the front door.

"I'll get it." Tonks started to move away, then quickly returned for a swift kiss before winking and running to the door, tripping over the rug in her haste.

As Harry waited in the sitting room, Andromeda brought in a platter of biscuits and a large pitcher of pumpkin juice. She patted his arm with an encouraging smile before retreating to the kitchen. It took a few minutes for Tonks to reappear, undoubtedly checking identities, but when she did, she was beaming.

Harry was shocked. Nearly half the Order streamed into the house. Deladus Diggle, Hestia Jones, and Mad-Eye Moody. Hermione, of course. To Harry's relief, Remus, who immediately gave him a hug, followed by a surly Eric. Professor McGonagall, to his immense surprise, looking odd in Muggle dress. And then, with a shock of pleasure, two vivid redheads: Fred and George.

"You came!" Harry exclaimed, shaking the twins' hands. "I didn't think ..."

"Mum was pretty upset," George said, rightly guessing Harry's omitted words. "You know her – she'll back Dumbledore for nothing more than to try to keep you, Ron, and Ginny out of this as long as possible."

"I think Dad's sympathetic, but he won't come round till she does," added Fred. "We're still working on Bill. Mum's so gutted about Percy the prat that Bill says he can't take another side, but inside I know he agrees with you. He won't play good son forever, and Fleur will do whatever he does. She'll probably be the one to convince him."

"And Charlie's thinking it over," finished George.

Guilt flooded Harry. He had done this, this further splintering of the family that had taken him in as one of its own. What if he was wrong, what if – a pressure on his hand interrupted his self-doubting thoughts.

Tonks grinned like it was her birthday. "Everyone's waiting, Harry." She squeezed his hand once more, and as he made his way to the front of the room, he didn't miss the smirk that passed between the twins.

Everyone stared at him, and Harry's throat was terribly dry. He quickly poured a glass of pumpkin juice, but in his haste he quaffed too much and started choking. And for a cherry on top, when Remus thumped him on the back, Harry dropped his cup, spilling the remainder of the juice all over the hardwood. _Great first impression, Harry._

"I know I'm awesome, Harry, but you don't have to imitate everything I do," Tonks quipped, easily cleaning up the mess with a wave of her wand, and everyone laughed, setting Harry at ease.

"Despite my best efforts, I guess you've rubbed off on me," he told her with a grateful smile before returning to face the group once again. "Right. So. Erm ... thanks for coming, everyone."

Remus urged him on with a nod.

"So, um, this isn't about me. I'm not some kid throwing a fit because you won't let me play. Don't get me wrong, I want to help, I want to fight, but it's not about that. It's about ..." Sudden inspiration seized him. "It's about Sirius and Emmeline Vance and Amelia Bones. It's about the Brockdale Bridge and the giant attacks in West County. What I'm trying to say is that he's winning and people are dying, and I think we should do more."

The mood had taken a distinct downturn, so Harry hurried onward. "I respect Professor Dumbledore, I truly do. I'm not trying to pull you away from the Order. I want nothing more than for us all to work together. At the same time, I think he's made mistakes. He's a great wizard, but we won't win this war his way. No one is perfect, but we need more."

"What would you do differently, Harry?" Hestia asked, and Harry was encouraged not only by her question but by her interested expression.

"Um, well, I think we should share more information. Like the Department of Mysteries."

The group leaned forward, and Harry knew he had their attention. He took a deep breath, glancing at Tonks, who shrugged and smiled slightly. They had talked about this for a long time, but she always said she couldn't make this decision for him.

"There was a prophecy concerning me and Voldemort. It's why he attacked my family."

The room fell completely silent, free of the normal shifting and whispering. Some were shocked; others merely nodded in resignation. After allowing it to sink in, Harry continued.

"But that's not why the only reason I want to help. Someone told me that the prophecy is just words, and she was right." He shared a quick grin with Hermione. "It doesn't matter what it says. What matters is that he killed my parents, and he's never going to stop hurting people. I may not be of age and out of school, but I want to do all I can until I am. I think we should – somebody should – stand up to him, not just wait for bad things to happen. And if the Order doesn't want to do that, then I want to give my support to whoever will. And that's why I – we – Tonks asked you here. If you want to go back to the Order, no hard feelings. But we – I think we should do more. And that's pretty much it." Suddenly worn out, Harry rubbed the back of his neck, highly aware that all eyes were on him.

Tonks stood. "I completely agree with Harry. I joined the Aurors to keep baddies out of the world, and I'm not content to rest on my bum. If you recall, I was the last person to join the Order, excluding the twins, and that's simply because they weren't of age yet. We're going to need strength in numbers. The Aurors aren't enough, and there's a lot people can do beyond actual battle." She checked her watch. "And on that note, we've a few more guests joining us soon. So if you want, stick around. If not, well, have a nice day and –"

"Thank you, to all of you, even if you don't stay," Harry jumped in hurriedly, having a pretty good idea of what she was about to say. Tact was not always her strong suit.

To Harry's shock, not one person left the house. Instead all seemed to be settling in for the evening, either picking over Andromeda's snacks or chatting quietly amongst themselves. In between Mad-Eye and Remus, Tonks flashed him a cheeky wink, but his view was obscured by the twins.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," they said in unison, flanking him.

"What?"

"Is that a bit of intrigue I sense between you and everyone's favorite Metamorphmagus?" asked Fred.

George grinned. "You must be mistaken, bro. Our little Harrykins couldn't possibly be putting the moves on Tonks."

"Well, which is it, Harry?"

"Are you after an Auror?"

"Or is she checking out the Chosen one?"

Harry laughed. He'd really missed these two. "Suppose you'll have to wait and see."

Leaving the amused (and impressed) twins behind, he crossed the room, grabbing a plate of miniature tarts as he did.

"Hi," he said uncertainly, offering the plate to Eric, who grunted and took a handful. So much for conversation. "Er, how have you been?"

The older boy took his time eating, gazing around the room with such distaste on his face that he earned several strange looks. "Do you really believe all that shite you said?" he asked abruptly.

"Well, um, yeah."

Eric snorted. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"Better than wasting away," Harry snapped. Eric turned his glower (which was apparently permanently switched on) to him, and Harry shifted. He felt sympathy for the werewolf, he really did, but there was something about him that made Harry blurt out things he didn't even know he was thinking.

He took a tart to have something to do, the silence pressing against them. Trying to remember what Eric was going through, he tried again. "How was your Christmas?"

Eric slowly pivoted to face him, one hand crushing the pastry it held. "How was my Christmas? How do you think? Fuck. Malfoy said a lot about you but never that you were this thick."

"Right, I'm sor–"

"Don't pity me. It's fine." He ground his teeth before rushing on as if forcing himself to speak. "Lupin spent it with friends and tried to get me to go, but I've no interest in dinner parties with strangers."

Harry waved a hand at the group. "What about this?"

"Figured it would be interesting," he said with a shrug.

"You could join, you know, if you want." Harry glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Nice of Remus to bring you along."

"Yeah, well …" Eric shifted his stance. "He gives me a place to stay, lets me do as I please."

Harry nodded, not sure what he was supposed to say.

"Who's that girl?" Eric asked in one of his rapid changes of subject.

Harry followed his gaze. "Hermione. She's my classmate."

"What's she doing here?"

"She's my best friend."

Eric narrowed his eyes. "Wait. Yeah. She's that Mud–"

"Shut it," Harry interrupted in a low voice, taking a step closer. Eric could beat him to a pulp if he wanted, but he wasn't about to call Hermione that in front of Harry. "Don't say that word in front of me."

Eric chuckled, a surprising sound from the churlish teen. "Calm your tits, Potter. Sor-ry."

Harry had the sudden urge to laugh as well, if only because Tonks had said that phrase to him a half dozen times. "Just don't say it, okay? It's not right. How do you know who she is?"

"I hate to break the news to you, but you're sort of well-known."

At this Harry did chuckle. So he had a sense of humor buried underneath the bitterness. "Right. I forget sometimes. Suppose Malfoy's mentioned her, too?"

"Not nearly as often since the time Montague accused him of using the three of you as wank material. Really, Potter, he brings you up almost as often as he does his father. What's up with that?"

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or be sick. "We've never gotten along. How well do you know him?"

Eric shrugged. "About as well as any other Slytherin in that year. Why?"

"Just curious," Harry replied nonchalantly, a vague idea forming in his mind. "Hey, you don't –"

"Harry!" Tonks appeared at his shoulder, smiling broadly. "Everyone's here. You ready?" She switched her gaze to Eric. "Wotcher. I'm Tonks."

"Eric," he replied slowly, letting Tonks shake his hand.

"Charmed, I'm sure. C'mon, Harry."

The room had filled to a nearly uncomfortable capacity while Harry had been occupied. Some faces were familiar, some new, and after a brief preface by Remus, the newcomers were asked to introduce themselves.

"Cooper. I work in the Auror Office with Tonks."

"Conrad Croaker, Unspeakable."

"Ted Tonks and my wife, Andromeda."

"Amos Diggory." He had aged terribly since the last time Harry saw him, his scrubby brown beard now nearly all gray. "My son Cedric was murdered by You-Know-Who at the end of the Triwizard Tournament."

There was a long moment of silence after this, broken only by a soft cough. Finally Remus nudged Eric, who stood reluctantly. "Eric Rosier. I guess I'm a friend of Lupin's."

"Gustav Bergman. Work with Ted."

"Edmund Plummer. Mad-Eye dragged me 'ere."

"Augusta Longbottom, and my grandson Neville." Harry waved at his round-faced friend. "My son and daughter-in-law were tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange." If she noticed Andromeda's pale face turn her way, or Tonks clenching a cup with white knuckles, she didn't react.

The last was an elderly man sitting deep in a corner, decrepit-looking with beady black eyes. "Adminius Burke." Harry pivoted to face him. Burke, as in …?

Remus cleared his throat, standing. "Well, we know why we're here. We all have our own reasons, but what we share is a desire to make the world a better place, to stop You–, to stop _Voldemort_ from taking over and ruining people's lives."

"Isn't that what Dumbledore's group is trying to do?" Mr. Diggory asked. "What's the difference?"

Mad-Eye answered. "Nothing that says we can't have two groups of people with the same goal, is there? We have nothing against Dumbledore." That wasn't exactly true, Harry thought to himself, but he kept quiet.

"What we need to talk about is what we're going to do," Hestia said. "You-Know-Who gains strength every day."

"We take the fight to him," Tonks joined in, leaning forward on her elbows. "We know who his followers are. We have to remove them to get to him. We infiltrate, we raid – we take them out."

A long silence followed her words. "You're talking about killing people," said Gustav in a tone of disbelief.

"Not if we don't have to," Tonks clarified quickly. "Capture and ship off to Azkaban, for what that's worth. But if it comes to my life or theirs, then, yeah. We can't play fight any longer."

"Pretty strong words," Gustav returned. "Do you have any idea what you're asking us to do?"

Tonks looked at him a long time before answering. "I know exactly what I'm talking about," she replied, her jaw tight.

Mr. Diggory cleared his throat. "I'll do whatever it takes. I don't have anything to lose anymore. But you do realize that you're proposing a vigilante group? The Ministry won't tolerate it."

"That's why we keep quiet," Cooper said. "For as long as possible. And it's not just for the Ministry. When You-Know-Who finds out, we'll jump to the top of his target list."

Remus stood, earning everyone's attention. "I just want to make sure everyone knows what you're getting into. Those of us old enough to remember his first rise to power know what it was like. When you gain his attention, your entire family gains his attention. No one will think less of you for stepping away."

"Sometimes that doesn't matter," Mr. Diggory said, his eyes tortured. "Not even an innocent boy who happens to be in the way."

It had been over a year and a half, but Harry could recall every single second like it was yesterday. The words. The flash of green. The vacant grey eyes. Next to him, Hermione gently nudged his arm, knowing what he was thinking.

"Well then," Mad-Eye said decisively. "We can't rush into this like chickens with our heads cut off. We need a battle plan."

"Train," Tonks offered immediately. "Everyone needs to be up to speed on at least defensive measures. Patronuses, shields, stunners, side-along apparition – get the basics down and the rest will follow."

Harry decided to speak for the first time, thinking of Hermione. "Places to hide. Like Remus said, we're not the only ones in danger. Our families need somewhere to go."

"Safe houses. Good idea." Mad-Eye grunted in approval.

"A hospital," Andromeda spoke up quietly. "People will get hurt. If we're trying to keep this under wraps for as long as possible, St. Mungo's will be out of the question. One of those safe houses needs to be a place for people to recuperate, and we'll need supplies, too, for potions."

"George and I can stockpile some of our products as well," said Fred.

Tonks nodded. "I can vouch for them. Damn handy."

"Gus and I have some discreet business contacts," ventured Ted. "With a bit of leg work, it might be possible to set up a steady source of underground goods. Right, Gus?" The other man nodded.

"It's nearly January," Mad-Eye said. "We take the next few months to prepare, build our skills, and gain intel. By summer we'll be ready to go."

"We can use our house for meetings," Ted said, and Andromeda concurred.

They were really going to do this. All around the room everyone gazed at Mad-Eye with grim determination. Harry felt a surge of accomplishment flavored with nerves.

After a few more words, the meeting broke up. Harry glanced at the odd Adminius Burke, but he left with Mad-Eye. He took a few minutes to catch up with Neville, and after a very uncomfortable goodbye with Amos Diggory, Remus caught his attention.

"You did well, Harry."

"But I didn't really do anything."

Remus smiled. "Yes, you did. Your parents would be proud. Perhaps you could come by again before you return to Hogwarts?"

"I'd like that. Goodbye, Remus. Bye, Eric."

The young werewolf jerked his head in acknowledgement before following Remus out, casting one more odd look at Hermione.

"That went splendidly."

Harry grinned at Tonks. "It did, didn't it? Feels good to have a plan in motion."

"Too right. Oi, Hermione!" She looked up. "Stay for dinner? Mum's making spaghetti. Coop's staying, too, so he can take you home after."

"Okay, thanks."

They didn't talk much about the meeting over dinner. Harry deduced that the others, like him, were pleased yet still processing. Tonks, he could tell, wasn't too thrilled about her parents' involvement, but she didn't mention it. Instead she and Cooper chatted and teased each other with their characteristic ease and familiarity, and Cooper tossed a few arch remarks Hermione's way just to see her blush.

In all it was a pleasant affair, and afterward the younger four gathered in the sitting room. Tonks and Cooper had a few beers, but Harry and Hermione abstained, Harry deciding he didn't care for it after tasting Tonks'. Harry might have minded the way Cooper's eyes lingered on Tonks when she laughed had it not been for the fact that she was resting her legs on his own lap.

Eventually Hermione said she needed to return, and after teasing her about curfews, Tonks took her upstairs to grab a book on human transfiguration.

Cooper called out before she disappeared up the stairs. "Tonks, I nearly forgot. Cruz and Castro are throwing the mother of all parties on New Year's Eve. You in?"

"Do you even have to ask? I'm so there."

"Excellent. See you then."

"Having a good holiday, Harry?" Cooper asked him once they were alone, banishing the empty bottles.

"Excellent. We've had fun."

He smiled. "Tonks is always good for that." Silence descended, but Harry was comfortable enough with Cooper that it wasn't awkward. He was about to ask him about the Borgin investigation when Cooper spoke again in a completely different tone. "Can I tell you something, Harry?"

"Uh, sure."

He lowered his voice. "I'm not blind, and even if I was, Tonks tells me everything anyway. Whatever is going on between you is none of my business."

"Okay," said Harry warily.

"Listen, Harry, I know her better than anyone. I'm not trying to brag; it's simply a fact. If you really care about her, can I give you some advice?"

"Go ahead."

"Don't give up on her."

Harry stared, uncomprehending. "I don't …"

"Just … you'll know. Sometimes Tonks can be difficult, and if you really care about her, just stick around."

"Okay." Harry absorbed this, uneasily comparing it to what Ted had said.

Cooper nodded with a faint smile. "Good man."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry blurted out.

"She's my best friend. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you – I'm not as oblivious as she is. I can see it. You look at her, well, the way I look at her."

His smile took a bitter turn. "I'm telling you because she likes you. If you make her happy, who am I to stand in your way?"

"But if you talked to her –" _Why am I arguing this?_

"Do you know how much I wish you weren't likable?" Cooper asked rhetorically with a dry chuckle. _I can say the same_, thought Harry. "I don't need to talk to her, Harry. Like I said, I'm her best friend, and I know her better than anyone. You're the one she wants."

Hermione and Tonks returned before Harry could form a response, and as he watched them leave, Harry had the impression that Cooper was a far better man that he himself would ever be.

**oOo**

"How do you expect me to apparate if I don't know where I'm going?"

"I'll tell you when we leave," Harry replied patiently, buttoning his shirt. "You just can't stand not knowing, can you?" Something thumped against his door.

"What if I don't like it?" Tonks countered from the hallway.

"You will."

"I have a very particular palate. I don't want to end up somewhere with nothing but a salad to enjoy."

Harry laughed. "I've yet to see you turn down food. Besides, what's wrong with salad?"

"Nothing, if it's –" Tonks tumbled into his room when he opened the door. She had, as he guessed, been leaning against it. "If it's alongside a nice steak."

"You and your steaks," said Harry, giving her a hand up that conveniently landed her in his arms.

"You know me, babe, I'm all carnivore," she murmured, nibbling his earlobe and laughing when he twitched. "Well, you look good, and I know I look good. I say we're ready for Tonks and Harry go on a date, take two."

He grinned, eager to see the fruition of his carefully laid plans, formulated with the assistance of Ted and Remus. With a wide smile, Tonks took his hand as they walked downstairs.

"Don't you two look lovely?" Andromeda said. "Hold on one moment and let me get my camera."

"Merlin's tits, Mum!" Tonks protested. "Can you not?"

"Watch your mouth, Nymphadora," was the response from the hall.

Tonks wrinkled her nose. "Harry, how old am I?"

"Twenty-two."

"Would you mind reminding my parents? Blimey, it's like I'm fifteen again. No one needs to relive that."

Harry laughed. He enjoyed watching Tonks interact with her parents. It seemed so normal.

"Is tonight your date?" Ted asked, shuffling out of his office. Harry was surprised to see him wearing glasses. Ted cleared his throat, giving Harry the once-over. "Well, young man, what are your intentions with my daughter?"

"There is not a hole in the world deep enough for me to hide," Tonks mumbled. "I'm never staying here again."

"Ready?" Andi came back, saving Harry from having to answer Ted, which was good as he wasn't sure if he was serious. "Oh for heaven's sake, Nymphadora, at least pretend you like him."

Tonks gave Harry a look of resignation, scowling at his amused expression before adopting a cheerful if forced smile. As she leaned into him, he felt a vibration.

"Oh, bugger me!" she exclaimed. "You have to be kidding."

Glancing at the medallion around her neck, flashing blue, Harry tried to conceal the displeasure that crossed his face. _Here we go again._ This was her job, he reminded himself. It wasn't her fault.

Tonks apologized rapidly, switching her slinky shoes for her normal rugged boots (an odd match with the dress). Then it was quick kisses for all three and a dash for the door. "Love you all, bye!"

"Be careful, baby!" Andromeda called.

When she was gone, Harry sat down heavily, squashing his disappointment.

"I'll cancel your reservations for you, son," said Ted, ruffling Harry's hair as he passed.

"It seems you're stuck with us for the evening," Andromeda said with a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry we're not as pretty as my daughter."

"Speak for yourself!" Ted called from the other room.

Harry laughed. "It's fine." He nodded at a table off to one side. "Draughts, best of three?"

Later that night Harry carefully selected a fudgy, marbled brownie from the cooling rack. Ted was currently having a vocal disagreement with a rugby match on the television, and when Andi had quietly retreated to the kitchen, Harry followed, finding the measuring and mixing to be a nice distraction from his ruminations on what Tonks was currently doing.

He all but groaned at the sweet treat in his mouth, and Andromeda smiled, taking a delicate bite of her own. "Ted's grandmother's recipe," she said when she swallowed. "Bless her, she taught me everything I know about cooking."

"Not something Black daughters were taught growing up?"

She stuck her nose in the air. "There are house-elves for a reason, Harry. No proper witch would be caught dead cooking, cleaning, or any other general household drudgery." She dropped the haughty pose (unnerving, that) and smiled again. "I was terribly hopeless when Ted and I first married, I'm afraid. He's a very patient man."

"He definitely didn't pass that trait on," Harry remarked, polishing off his brownie.

"No, he did not," Andi agreed. Her smile faded away. "My daughter is so much like my sister it scares me."

Harry frowned, unable to reconcile happy-go-lucky Tonks with Bellatrix Lestrange. His objections, however, were interrupted before he could begin when Ted walked in, holding a letter.

"Owl from Dora," he told them. "Said she and Cooper have a lot of work to do and they have to be at the Ministry at 'I'm going to kill someone o'clock' tomorrow so she's going to stay at his place for the night. She ends with 'All the love in my heart, tell Harry to untwist his knickers and give him a kiss for me." Ted grinned, holding his arms open. "So, Harry, come here."

Harry pretended to fend him off, and they shared a laugh, which masked the fact that he was curious as to why she couldn't apparate from home as easily as from Cooper's. Ted and Andi were unconcerned, soon departing for bed, and after reading one of Tonks' books on Unforgivable Curses until his eyelids drooped, Harry followed suit, pondering the empty bed down the hall.

**oOo**

Tonks returned at midday, entering with a crash, a swear, and a cheery, "I'm home! Brilliant, lunch, I'm starving."

"How was your excursion?" Ted asked, handing her the platter of Chicken Kiev once she was seated with them. "Did you save the world?"

"Of course. You'd probably all be dead if it wasn't for me."

"I'm so glad I raised such a humble daughter," Andromeda noted dryly, serving green beans.

Tonks smiled. "We can't all be like bighead over here, strutting around like we're the best thing since sliced bread."

Harry shrugged, returning the grin she flashed his way. "When you're awesome, you're awesome. There's no hiding it."

"You see what I have to deal with?" Tonks returned. "Wearying, I tell you."

After lunch Harry followed Tonks upstairs, curious about what had kept her overnight. However, as soon as they reached her room, she rounded on him, all traces of teasing gone.

"A press conference?" she said succinctly.

The Ministry. Harry ran a hand through his hair. He'd been wondering when this would come up. "Yes. How do you know about that?"

"I certainly didn't hear it from you, did I?"

"It doesn't really concern you, does it?" he retorted, stung by her belligerency.

She opened her mouth to answer, then seemed to reconsider, shutting her jaw and spinning around. "No. It's none of my business. Harry, it's just that I hope you –"

"Know what I'm getting myself into," he finished. "I am, or at least I think so. I'm a big boy, you know. If I'm making a mistake, let me. I don't need someone to protect me all the time."

She turned to face him, chewing on her lip. "I know you don't, I really do. Color me overreacting, yeah? Anyway, the Ministry thinks you stayed at Hogwarts for the holiday so it's a good thing I overheard Dawlish and volunteered to escort you. You'll be getting an owl."

"Thanks." Harry paused, then hesitantly reached forward to tuck some electric blue hair behind her ear. "I missed you last night, Dora."

"It's like Fate is against – wait." Tonks took a step backward, matching blue eyes dancing. "What did you just call me?"

Harry swallowed. _Caught_. "I didn't call you Nymphadora."

"Smart man." She regarded him a moment longer before continuing, a pleased smile spreading across her face. "We'll have our date someday, babe. You don't go back for a week."

Harry was saved the bother of replying when she kissed him, and as he pulled her closer, he daringly flirted with the edge of her t-shirt. "Did you change at the Ministry?" he mumbled against her lips, vaguely recalling the enticing dress she had worn upon departure.

She disengaged, slightly out of breath. "No, I've left enough clothes at Coop's over the years to practically warrant my own closet. I was wondering what happened to this one. You like?" She tugged the bottom of her shirt, which had the words 'Chasers Do It With Speed' splashed over a figure on a broomstick. "I had one that said 'Save a Broom, Ride a Chaser', but Mum did my laundry and it mysteriously disappeared."

Harry forced a chuckle. "Yeah, funny."

"Harry." She took his chin, pulling his head down. "Babe … don't even go there. I loathe that nonsense."

He held his hands up. "I'm not. It's fine. Everything is fine." She could keep a change of clothes wherever she wanted.

Tonks made a hum of skepticism, but her tone was friendly. "I'm think I'm going to go for a jog. The weather's eased up a bit, and I've been dreadfully lazy this past week. Now who's the bad influence?"

"Still you."

"I know." She sighed. "But I'm so good at it!"

Harry laughed, the tightness in his chest easing somewhat as he left, shutting the door so she could change. He was startled by Ted waiting down the hall, and he very much hoped he hadn't witnessed the kissing.

"Wasn't eavesdropping, I promise. My nephew has an exhibition football game this afternoon, and I thought you might like to go. Get away from these women for a bit, what do you say?"

"Sounds like fun. I'll get my jacket."

"And Harry?" Harry looked up. "It's a touchy subject for her."

Harry took a resigned breath. "I picked up on that."

"You're not the first to be jealous of Cooper. As smart as she is, Dora's completely ignorant of his feelings, so she doesn't understand why people always assume there's something between them. You have nothing to worry about, son."

Harry smiled his thanks, but as he fetched his jacket and shoes, all he could think about was what happened when Tonks finally opened her eyes.

**oOo**

Harry nodded nervously as Sanjay continued his instructions for the press conference. It seemed very straightforward, and all he wished was that it would be brief. He resisted the urge to loosen the tie Andi had selected for him. Sanjay wore a smart tailored suit, but in Harry's opinion the tie was enough without a blazer.

"And then it will be your turn," Sanjay finished.

"My – my turn? For what?"

"To speak, of course." He handed Harry a sheet of parchment. "I took the liberty of composing a few words for you to choose from. A few sentences is all that's needed, just to demonstrate your support, can't have you simply sitting like a lump, can we?"

"If you say so."

"Excellent. Don't worry, old chap, it's going to go off without a hitch." Sanjay rather looked like he'd take it as a personal insult if it didn't.

"Bansal, a word with Potter, if I may."

Sanjay snapped to attention as the Minister strode up. "Yes, Minister, of course."

"I'm glad that we've found a way to work together, Potter," said Rufus Scrimgeour.

"Yes, sir. I think the more people who stand against Voldemort, the better." Harry was impressed that the Minister didn't flinch at the name, as most people did.

"Of course. Now, I've placed Aurors in a perimeter around the Atrium. Two will be up front with us. We don't expect any trouble, but in this climate it's best to be prepared for the worst. If anything happens, you do exactly as they say. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"It's my understanding that you've been an acquaintance of Auror Tonks for several years?"

"Yeah, we're friends." _To say the least._

"Auror Tonks!" he barked. Tonks, fussing with her robes on the other side of the room, jumped and quickly headed their way.

"Yes, Minster?"

" I'm placing Potter under your protection today. Anything out of the ordinary and you remove him immediately. Is that clear?"

"On my life, sir."

"Just what I expect from my Aurors," he said with approval. "Very well. I think we're ready to proceed."

In the moments before they trooped into the Atrium, after a bit of fussy maneuvering by Sanjay, Harry found himself standing next to Percy Weasley. Avoiding eye contact, he read and reread the statements Sanjay had proposed, none of which sounded remotely like anything that would come out of his mouth. Why had he gotten himself into this?

"I must say, I didn't expect to see you here," said Percy stiffly, not bothering to look at Harry.

Remembering how Percy had described him in a letter to Ron the year prior – unbalanced and violent among others – Harry glanced at him, his mouth tight. "Sometimes we have to work with people we'd rather not in order to get things done."

Ignoring the slight, Percy continued. "It will undoubtedly be good for you to escape from Dumbledore's sphere of influence and see –"

Tonks' voice floated above them. "Oh, bugger off and flush your head in a toilet, Prissy Percy."

Percy flushed, pivoting to face the front of the room, while Harry sniggered and managed not to look at Tonks, knowing he'd laugh outright if he did.

It wasn't until she poked him that Harry realized they had begun to move into the Atrium, and with a start he hurried after Percy. He was immediately blinded by the flash of cameras, and when his vision finally cleared of white lights, he saw the room was packed, row upon row of people hiding any view of the dark polished floor all the way to the lifts. Harry stood in front of the Fountain of Magical Brethren, a dark red velvet rope separating he and his companions from the crowd. He looked for Andromeda, who was off work and planned to attend, but he couldn't spot her.

Scrimgeour stood behind a podium, his magically enhanced voice booming through the Atrium. As he spoke, Harry frowned. His speech gave the impression that the Ministry sought to strengthen more interrogatory techniques than just Veritaserum, which wasn't what Harry had been told. But, as he gazed at the reporters and spectators, he thought of Cooper's failed interrogation of Borgin. Of boastful yet harmless Stan Shunpike sitting in Azkaban. Of Sirius, jailed for over a decade with no trial. The Ministry wasn't working, and if this was what it took to fix that, so much the better.

_Bloody hell_. Was that his name? Harry glanced up to see the Minister gazing at him expectantly. Oh no. They really did expect him to say something. With the eyes of all on him, Harry stood, surreptitiously glancing back at Tonks. She didn't meet his gaze, her eyes locked forward with her hands behind her back, maintaining a professional demeanor.

Wincing at the return of the camera flashes, Harry gripped the podium, wishing too late that he hadn't shoved Sanjay's list in his pocket. What had it said? "Erm," he began, clearing his throat.

Sanjay darted forward and pointed his wand at Harry's throat, murmuring, "_Sonorus_."

"I, uh –" Blimey, his voice was loud. "I know that some of you might think these are excessive measures, but today, at this time, we don't live in a normal world. So they are – er, that is, I think they are necessary, and I stand with the Ministry." There, that wasn't so bad. "On this subject," he added hastily.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter!" The reporters went into a frenzy, thrusting their hands up to get his attention, but luckily Sanjay canceled his charm and Scrimgeour took Harry's place, accepting questions.

"Splendid, Harry, splendid," Sanjay praised him, beaming. "It went off wonderfully, and I feel confident in saying that the legislation will pass with no major obstacles."

"Yes, well done, Harry," Percy said pompously. "Hope to see you around the Ministry more often."

Harry grinned as various other staff members thanked him. As uncomfortable as it made him, like the meeting a few days prior, he was once again taking a real step against Voldemort and his forces.


	16. Party

**Party**

Harry examined the stranger in the mirror. Grayish-blue eyes reflected his own hesitation, peering out from behind rectangular brown frames. His jaw was covered with a few days' worth of brown stubble, and light brown hair draped across his forehead and down his neck with the sort of careless style Harry never managed to achieve on his own.

Not even his hair had the temerity to object when faced with the business end of Tonks' wand.

"Harry, are you ready?" Tonks popped around his door, grinning. "Hello, handsome."

Tonks had put her foot down, refusing to take Harry to her mates' New Year's Eve party without some sort of disguise. Only when Cooper intervened, pointing out that Harry wouldn't get a moment's peace if his presence was known, was it that Harry gave in. Tonks opted for transfiguration rather than Polyjuice, and he had to admit the result was effective; he didn't even know himself.

Torn from his own reflection, Harry stared. She had poured herself into a pair of tight jeans, the myriad rips providing enticing glimpses of bare skin. Her top exemplified the theme of 'less is more', and shiny jewelry flashed at wrist, neck, ears, and midriff. It was an altogether distracting look.

Tonks herself, however, was dealing with her own distractions, casting an admiring eye up and down Harry. "You should dress up more often," she said, tugging his shirt out of his khaki trousers.

"What are you doing?" Harry cast a glance at the open door.

She laughed. "Relax, babe. It just looks better loose like this. Trust me, I'm the one with a sense of fashion. Now, if you're good to go, there's a bottle of rum in London with my name on it."

**oOo**

When they arrived at the appropriate London flat, one apparition, two blocks, a broken lift, and four flights of stairs later, Tonks paused in the corridor, an odd, muffled, thumping sound echoing from somewhere nearby.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

She laughed in a rather condescending manner. "Those parties you lot have in the Gryffindor common room after exams and Quidditch victories have nothing on this, babe." With that rather curious message (or was it a warning?) she knocked.

It was like entering another world. Harry's first thought was that someone hit him over the head. A pounding penetrated his very bones. Only belatedly did he realize it was the music, cranked to near-painful levels, and that the vague roaring was the entire flat greeting Tonks, who was either very popular or had been in absentia for too long.

She was right. It was nothing like the scarlet and gold Gryffindor common room. A mass of bodies gyrated in the middle of the room, and smoke hung above all like low-lying, unpleasantly scented clouds.

He was completely overwhelmed. Tonks kept a firm grip on his hand, and he was fuzzily aware of her introducing him to a slim young man with an olive complexion and dark, twinkling eyes. Harry shook his hand absently, still absorbing the pulsating figures and booming bass and landscape littered with glass bottles. Two women were glued together like Siamese twins in an armchair.

"TONKS!" boomed a muscular man, shouldering his way to their side and engulfing Tonks in a hug. He was easily the largest person Harry had ever seen, save Hagrid. "I haven't seen you in ages, lovely, wherever have you been hiding from us?"

"Hogwarts, you know that. Some of us work for a living, Castro," she teased playfully.

He let out an outraged huff, but the first man returned, carefully clenching four small glasses. "Here you are, my favorite Tonks and the delicious Mr. Harry."

Harry accepted the glass hesitantly. He didn't figure the clear liquid inside was water. Tonks pulled his ear to her mouth while the other two began to bicker over topics unknown. "Don't feel pressured to partake. I'm sure there's butterbeer in the kitchen."

"And you?" he returned, unsure.

Her grin widened. "Bottoms up, babe." She clinked her glass against his before tossing it back. "Look, there's Coop! Are you still claiming you don't dance?" Harry nodded. "Fine. You won't mind if I find another partner, then?"

Without waiting for an answer, she slipped into the crowd. Harry watched the bright head maneuver before stopping next to a tall, familiar man. Well. Just because he didn't want to dance didn't mean she couldn't, right? Left alone, he glanced once more at his drink. What the hell, he was a marked man, and this might be his last chance to have a good time. If there was one thing he learned from Cedric's and Sirius' deaths, it was that life was too damn short, and he ought to embrace it like Tonks did, as if every day was his last. Because it might very well be.

With that, Harry lifted the glass to his lips and drank.

The evening went on in a cacophony of loud music and harsh drinks. Cruz, the slim man he met at the beginning of the night, made sure Harry never lacked for a drink, and after watching Cooper's hands resting on Tonks' swaying hips for too long, he began to mingle. Her friends were entertaining, and it was refreshing not to be the Boy Who Lived.

He was having so much fun attempting to learn poker that he was startled when Tonks draped her arms over his shoulders. "Harry!" she exclaimed. "It's almost midnight."

"But I'm about to win," he protested thickly. His tongue was strangely heavy, as if he was very tired.

She cast a knowing eye over his cards. "No, you're not." His new friends laughed.

Harry laughed along. He was in an unusually good mood, all his worries forgotten. Who knew a party with a bunch of strangers while assuming a fake identity would be so enjoyable? He hadn't laughed this much in months.

"Someone's having a good time," Tonks said, sounding amused.

Harry stood, slipping his arms around her waist. "I'd have more fun if you hadn't abandoned me."

"Oh, you poor baby. I've neglected you shamefully, haven't I?" She leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "I promise I'll make it up to you."

He grinned broadly as the onlookers hooted. That sounded like a way to make a good night great, and he was already having the time of his life.

"But right now, it's nearly midnight. Come on," she continued. One of Harry's poker buddies shouted something crude after them, and Tonks glanced back, laughing. "Oi, piss off!"

They made their way to the middle of the living room, where the dancing and music was paused, and the entire group gathered, counting down the seconds.

"Ten … nine … eight …"

Tonks handed him a tiny glass filled with firewhiskey, holding one identical.

"Seven … six … five …"

They clasped hands, grinning.

"Four … three … two …"

They clinked their glasses together.

"One … HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Harry followed her lead, pouring the entire contents down his throat in one gulp. It burned all the way down.

Tonks crooked an arm around his neck, bringing his head to hers. "Happy New Year, Harry."

And then they kissed. Kissed until they stumbled against a wall, knocking an empty bottle off a table. Kissed until had his lips not been numb, he would have known they were chapped. Kissed until he was sure he would die a happy death of asphyxiation.

"Merlin's right arsecheek, get a room," Cooper remarked when they parted. The Auror had appeared out of nowhere.

"I would, were any free," Tonks replied with an exceptionally naughty look.

Harry met Cooper's eyes and flushed, looking away but unable to wipe the grin off his face. His body wasn't quite responding to his commands anymore. It was the oddest sensation.

As if midnight was the cue, the party resumed with new gusto. When Tonks started dancing again, this time with her friends Cruz and Castro, Harry began roaming the flat, glass in hand. He watched a drinking game in the kitchen, saw a concert on the television, spilled his drink on himself, interrupted a couple snogging in a bedroom he mistook for the loo, and found his way onto the balcony, gazing at the London skyline. He'd left his coat, but the cold didn't bother him.

"They are completely adorable, aren't they?" a woman on the other end remarked, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "It's such a shame, though."

"Why is that?" her friend asked.

"That she has no idea he's in love with her. Look at them. They'd have the cutest babies."

The second woman laughed, nicking her fag. "Technically you don't know what she actually looks like, so how do you know what her kids would look like?"

They could only be talking about one person. Harry turned around, glancing inside the French doors. Tonks and Cooper were dancing once again, gazing into each other's eyes with her hands wrapped around his neck. Harry frowned and finished his drink, abandoning the glass on the railing.

Tonks detached herself when he appeared inside. "Harry, are you –"

"Let's dance," he interjected. "If Coop doesn't mind."

The older man raised his eyebrows, but he relinquished his partner. "Not at all. There's a ginger I've been eyeing all night."

"Get it in, love!" Tonks called after him. She turned to Harry. "What changed your mind?"

"You," was all he said.

Her eyes lighting up with glee, Tonks began to dance, holding one of his hands, and he tried to move with her, highly aware of her bum pressed against him. She spun around, laughing at his awkwardness, and Harry laughed along, wondering why he hated dancing, for it was much more fun than he remembered. The room blurred, and he saw only Tonks in front of him, purple hair flying as she moved her body against him in ways he found highly intriguing. Wasn't she supposed to be clumsy?

Though he knew people were talking loudly, all he could hear was the music, and he swore his heart beat in sync with the rhythm. How long they danced, he couldn't say, but he was mesmerized. Countless songs and at least four of Tonks' crushed toes later, he finally had to pull himself away for a dash to the toilet.

When he returned, beginning to feel dizzy, Tonks wasn't where he left her. Confused, he stumbled through the crowd, wishing his feet weren't so heavy. He found Cooper near a table that had been piled with snacks but was now merely a mess of crumbs.

"Alright, Harry?"

"Fantastic," he replied. "Have you – have you seen Tora, er, Donks? Erm, I mean …"

"Tonks?" Cooper supplied, an amused grin spreading across his face. "She's over there. Surprised you missed her. Do you feel okay?"

Harry didn't answer, turning. How _had_ he missed her? Tonks was on top of a table, alternately swaying to a beat that was most definitely not that of the song playing or shouting at the crowd around her.

"Any minute now, she'll start going on about her glory days at Hogwarts," Cooper said over his shoulder. "The myriad Quidditch victories she led them to and House Cups that always just slipped out of their hands. I often wonder what universe she lives in."

Apparently determined to prove him wrong, Tonks chose that moment to fall off the table. After a moment of stifled giggles amid the otherwise silent group around her, one hand holding a glass appeared in the air.

"Not one drop spilled!" she yelled, and cheers erupted.

Harry and Cooper were still laughing when she came up to them, passing around three shot glasses. "To my two faaavorite boys!" she declared.

They drank in unison, but this one didn't go down well. The room was spinning as Tonks led Harry back into the midst of the dancing. He held it in long enough to learn how to dance the hippogriff, but when Cruz swung by offering more drinks, Harry waved him away.

"Tonks, I – I don't feel so good," he said slowly, holding onto her shoulder. Staying upright was becoming an issue.

"Uh-oh," she said quickly, sliding her arm around his waist. "Let's go, babe."

She carefully led him to the bathroom, shutting the door behind them. Harry slumped against the bathtub, wishing his stomach would settle. "I don't feel good," he moaned again.

Tonks chuckled, and he managed a weak glare. She knelt, brushing some hair from his eyes. "Oh, sweetheart. You're drunk."

Harry stared at her, his mouth falling open. He was drunk? Oh. He was _drunk_. How had that escaped his notice?

"How much did you drink, out of curiosity?" she continued.

"I – I dunno. I just wanted to keep up with you."

This time she laughed outright. "That was your first mistake, babe. Not only do I have years of drinking on you, but I'm an Auror. Aurors party as hard as we work, and we're the hardest damn workers in the Ministry."

"But that's the problem, don't you see?" Harry blurted out. She cocked an eyebrow. "You're, you're like an adult, and stuff, and you're an Auror, and you're out of school, and you're older. And me, I'm just me, I'm a student and still at Hogwarts, and …"

Tonks frowned. "But I don't care about that, not really, haven't I made that abundantly clear?"

"But it's just there's this thing between us, and I don't even know if it can work." Harry had no control over the words tumbling out of his mouth. "Sometimes I'm afraid we're too far apart. But Merlin, Dora, I like you, I like you so much that I think I might, um, even lo–"

"Let's not say things we'll regret, okay?" Tonks interrupted quickly with an expression of panic. "You're a sentimental drunk, I get it." She smiled. "It's cute."

"A sentimental … I don' understand."

"Everyone's a certain kind of drunk," she said. "Some people get mean, some, like you, declare their love for the world, some talk a lot. For instance, when I drink tequila, my clothes fall off."

That penetrated the haze of his brain. "Can – can we get some tequila in here?" called Harry.

Tonks threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, so you're a comedian, too? Funny man."

"Tonks, I think I'm going to be sick," he blurted all of a sudden.

"Here, drink this," she said hastily, thrusting a flask at him. He pushed it away. "No, go on. It's a sobering up potion. You'll feel better, but don't –"

He grabbed the flask and chugged.

"– drink it too fast," she finished, wincing.

Harry swallowed, and a second later, he was bent over the toilet, heaving. Just when he thought he was done, more came up.

"What goes in must come out," Tonks said, grimacing. She wiped off his face with a wet washcloth in between rounds, patting his back and brushing damp hair out of his eyes. "That's it, love, get it all out."

Harry finally felt like he might live, pushing himself into a sitting position. "I am never drinking again," he said hoarsely.

As he expected, Tonks laughed. "That's the mark of a night well done."

"I'm serious." He gave her a look. "How are you sober?"

"I was sipping the potion while you were otherwise occupied over there, and I wasn't as pissed as you to start with. I'm impressed, babe."

"Soak it up. I swear I'm never doing it again." Harry stood cautiously. Side effects aside, the potion seemed to have work; all he really felt now was tired.

Tonks held out a hand, and he pulled her to her feet. "I'm knackered. Think it's time to call it a night? I'd say we rang in 1997 with a proper bang."

The party was still in full swing, but Cooper was nowhere in sight.

"Think he's making up for the lack of a New Year's kiss?" Harry jested.

"I hope so. Good for him," she replied.

"Lookin' for your boy toy?" a woman slurred, stumbling toward them.

Tonks shared a frown with Harry. "Wotcher, Annika. Coop isn't my boy toy. We're just friends, everyone knows that."

"Oh, oh-kay," she said in a mocking tone. With a unsteady hand she held out a small cigarette. "Wanna hit? What did you used to call it, Hufflepuff 'n pass?"

Now this was interesting. Harry raised his eyebrows at what was now clearly not an everyday cigarette. Catching his eyes, Tonks blushed. "You know I don't do that anymore. Hey, look, there's a pretty girl. Go."

She turned the woman and gave her a gentle shove. Annika stumbled into a wildly dancing man, who took her hands and spun her around. That was a bad move, for the obviously intoxicated woman immediately fell over.

"Sorry about that," Tonks muttered. "I was a bit more, shall we say, experimental in my Hogwarts days, and my reputation precedes me."

"Hufflepuff 'n pass?"

"What can I say? No one ever suspects the Hufflepuff. We're more than a load of duffers, you know."

"I've been dueling you for months," Harry replied. "No one knows that better than me."

Tonks grinned, glancing over his shoulder, but the mirth was wiped off her face just as suddenly as it appeared, leaving an expression akin to one who'd just been slapped. After a long frozen pause, eyes fixed on an unknown spot, she shouldered her way through the crowd roughly, and Harry followed, mystified.

She strode up to a dark-haired man who locked onto her like there was no one else in the room. "What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed, hostility coming off in near-visible waves.

"I want to talk to you," the stranger began.

"No," she snapped. "We are not talking." She turned around and started to walk away.

"Nym, wait!" He reached out and grabbed her arm.

That was a mistake. It was like someone flipped a switch. Tonks whirled around, yanking her arm free and landing a solid right hook in one fluid motion. Her wand was out and pressed into the flesh of his neck before Harry realized she'd drawn it, shaking her other hand in pain. "Don't you dare fucking touch me!" she snarled, not bothering to keep her voice down. Harry took a step closer, unsure of what was happening.

"I just want to talk," the man protested, holding one hand to his reddened eye.

"No. No, I told you we are not going to talk. Here's what's going to happen. You are going to leave me alone. Forever. I will never see you, hear you, even smell you again." Her eyes flashed, so close to the storm clouds Harry always compared them to that he expected to hear thunderclaps. "And if you _ever_ lay one finger on me again, I will make you regret it."

Harry was suddenly very aware that the room had gone completely silent; even the music had stopped. Tonks was staring at the stranger with such intensity he suspected she had forgotten anyone else was there, even Harry himself.

Whoever this bloke was, he was persistent. "Nym, please," he tried again.

Harry stepped up, fearing bloodshed if it kept going. Tonks was on the verge of losing control, her wand trembling. "She said to leave her alone. I think you should go."

Tonks took a sudden breath, looking like she had just returned to her body. "No, we'll go. Come on, Harry."

Cruz came up, glancing at the three of them with wide eyes. "Tonks, what –"

"I'm so sorry, Cruz," Tonks interrupted, giving him a swift kiss on the cheek. "We're going to leave now, get some breakfast, you know? Great party. Thanks for having us. Give my love to Castro. I just – I'm sorry. Bye."

Without further ado she swiveled on her heel and left. Harry raced to grab their coats and catch up. Tonks set a furious pace down the stairs and out the door, setting off in the opposite direction from which they had come hours earlier.

"Tonks, wait!" Harry yelled.

He continued to follow her, dumbfounded. He had no idea who the mysterious stranger was, nor why she reacted to his presence like a flame to petrol. However, the anger and his use of a nickname lent familiarity, and Harry didn't need to be a genius to put together the pieces.

When he caught up, she was breathing as if she'd run a marathon, pale as a ghost. "Tonks!" he tried again. Still no response, her dark gray eyes staring straight ahead. He tentatively put a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched, raising one hand defensively. "Dora, what's going on?"

"Oh. Harry. I'm sorry, I almost forgot you were with me."

They continued to walk, albeit at a less hectic pace. "I noticed. You want to tell me what just happened?"

"What? Oh, nothing. Just an … unpleasant surprise is all."

Harry glanced at her with disbelief. If that's what she called a surprise, he'd hate to see her truly shocked. "Who was that?"

"Oh, he's no one," she replied coldly. "No one at all. Just somebody I used to know."

"Tonks, wait." He pulled her to a stop, choosing his words carefully. He wasn't sure what answer he wanted. "Is there something I need to know? Just be honest, please."

She took a long time to respond, and his stomach clenched into knots. "No," she finally said, having the decency to make eye contact. "There's nothing there. Just caught me off guard, and I overreacted. I'm sorry. Can we drop it, please?"

Knowing he'd hit a wall, Harry conceded grudgingly. Tonks was allowed to have a past, after all, even if it did have a capital 'P.' On the other hand, he was tired, tired of being confused, tired of unanswered questions, tired of wondering what was going on behind that rainbow-colored façade, tired of platonic friends with romantic yearnings and strangers that set off trigger buttons.

"Are you hungry?" she said out of nowhere.

"Um … I could eat, I suppose."

She took his hand. "There's an all-night café a few blocks from here. We used to go there after a pub crawl for breakfast all the time. Let's go."

The restaurant was quiet and nearly deserted, only another couple huddled in a corner, an ancient cook banging around the kitchen, and a bored waitress who directed them to a booth and handed over two greasy menus. Both requested coffee and drank in silence while contemplating the choices. After a few minutes another group entered, taking a seat near the door.

"Did you have fun?" Tonks asked suddenly, dropping her menu.

"Yeah, it was great."

"If you liked that, you should see what I have planned next," she said, taking no pains to moderate either the volume or tone of her sultry voice. She moved to his side of the table and placed her lips at his ear, rubbing his leg with one hand. "Harry, I want you to grin like I'm saying something very naughty. Death Eaters just walked in. Go to the bathroom, lock the door, and put on your invisibility cloak. Then leave. A back door, a window – just leave. Keep smiling, Harry. That's it. You can use magic. Go three blocks north to the tube station and send Remus a patronus. Whatever you do, don't take off the cloak. I'll meet you at headquarters. Don't waste time arguing with me. Now, wink, tell me you're going to the 'loo', and go. Don't look at them."

Harry's face stayed frozen in the same false, stupid grin as his mind whirled. Death Eaters? In an all-night café in the middle of London in the early hours of New Year's Day? How? And Tonks expected him to leave her behind?

Pressure from her hand reminded him that she did expect just that. On his first day at her house, she had extracted two promises: he took his invisibility cloak wherever he went, and he did what she said if anything of this nature happened. Something that seemed unlikely and trivial at the time was now a discerning piece of foresight.

With no other choice, Harry slid out of the booth. "Guess I'll go to the loo, then," he said as casually as he could manage, winking broadly. His voice sounded very loud.

"I might need to go, too," Tonks replied suggestively.

He kept his eyes focused on the door. If the Death Eaters noticed his departure, they didn't do anything about it. The bathroom was small, two stalls and a tiny window that would maybe fit his hand. He pulled the cloak over his head, contemplating his options, but before he could make a decision he heard a loud bang followed by several shouts.

Any remaining thought of following her directives flew out of his mind with the speed of his Firebolt.

Harry pressed his ear against the door. From the sound of it, Tonks was taking on all six. Was she out of her mind? She was good, but the numbers were against her. Heart in his throat, he was on the verge of charging out the door with his wand drawn when the noise of approaching footsteps gave him a split second warning.

A squat man with a piggish face uncannily reminiscent of Dudley burst in, wand at the ready. The aggressive look on his face changed to an expression of confusion at the empty room, then a sneer when he noticed the one closed stall. He stepped forward, kicking the door open, and –

Harry pointed his wand from behind the bathroom door, stunning the Death Eater in the back. He worked quickly. The man was shoved on the toilet, frozen in a body-bind, secured with ropes, and disillusioned for good measure. Harry shut the stall door, contemplating the man's wand. With a shrug he broke it in half and tossed the pieces in the rubbish bin.

He stared at the door. _Okay, Harry. Think._ He waved his wand twice more before slipping out the door as quietly as possible, wand pointing in all directions. No one met his gaze. Making sure his cloak was secure, he headed for the front, nearly skidding in something sticky.

He nearly lost whatever remained in his stomach. The lone waitress was slumped against the wall, blood still dripping steadily from her head. Her eyes stared vacantly into oblivion. No sight nor sound remained of the cook, but Harry had a nasty feeling it didn't bode well for him either. The kill count was already possibly at two, and, praying with all his might that it wouldn't reach any higher, he emerged in the dining area.

"I already told you, shite for brains, I haven't seen Harry since the Ministry press conference last week," Tonks was saying.

She was seated in a chair, her hands restrained behind her tightly enough that he could see the strain in her shoulders. Her bottom lip was swollen and cut but otherwise she was unharmed, and Harry's blood pressure dropped fractionally.

A giant of a blond man stood behind her, and another, exuding the confidence of leadership, paced in front of her. One watched the door, and Harry noted with satisfaction that he cradled his arm awkwardly, clearly hurt. What was possibly the ugliest woman he'd ever seen was stretched out on the floor. He couldn't tell if she was dead or stunned.

He crouched next to the counter, listening to their conversation while he desperately tried to formulate a plan.

"Then who was your companion tonight?"

"A lovely lad I met last night. D'you know what, I think he might swing both ways. Fancy his number?" Tonks frowned. "We're supposed to be having it in the loo. I don't want him to think I stood him up, so if you could just let me go …"

"Shut up!" the leader complained. "Do you always talk this much?"

"Yes."

"You think you're funny, do you?"

Tonks appeared to consider it. "Well, I'm no Bill Bailey, but I do know a few good ones. A hag, a warlock, and a house-elf walk into a pub –"

"Yaxley," a deep voice came from behind Harry. It was all he could do not to move. "Potter's not here, but Carrow was stunned, bound, and disillusioned. Found him by, er, accident." He sounded like he was stifling a laugh.

Harry's heart sank as the Death Eater he had stunned shuffled into sight, rubbing his head and reeking of a stale odor. He sent a glare at the one standing behind Harry as he passed.

"Carrow," Yaxley began in a controlled voice. "How the hell did a skinny teenage boy escape you?"

"Wasn't there," Carrow muttered. "Opened the door, and the next thing I know, I'm being woken up on a toilet. Wet." The other Death Eaters began to laugh, and even Harry grinned.

"Bloody hell, you've gone and lost me my date," Tonks exclaimed. "You owe me, Yaxley."

Yaxley swore. "You and you, seal and guard the exits," he ground out. "If Potter used magic, the Ministry goons will be here soon. And you." He returned to Tonks. "Clever girl. I'll give you one last chance to tell me where Potter is."

"I hate to shit in your music box, but I don't know," she replied defiantly. "I told you about a million times. I thought you Death Eaters were supposed to be smart. Though I suppose Moldy Voldy doesn't want any competition to his throne. Yes, much easier to keep minions in line when they're all a bunch of yes men."

"You _dare_ insult the Dark Lord in front of us?" the man with the hurt arm hissed. "Let me shut this whore up, Yaxley."

"Whore?" Tonks repeated in a dangerously soft voice, all traces of jest gone. She attempted to turn to look at him, but the blond giant shoved her head forward. "You're going to regret that."

"Have we touched a nerve?" Yaxley taunted, stepping closer. "The big, bad Auror doesn't much like being called a whore, does she?"

"Fuck you."

"What, no more japes?"

"Fuck your mother."

Yaxley didn't crack a smile. "I'm growing tired of your foolishness."

"Fine. Fuck his mother, then." She nodded at the one behind her. With a snarl, the blond giant lifted one massive foot and kicked her chair, sending her face forward onto the hard floor.

Harry winced. He was running out of time. It was five against two, each side with one unarmed. The exits were guarded. Not good odds. He began creeping around the perimeter of the café, hoping an idea would jump out in front of him.

The Death Eaters picked Tonks up. Blood dripped steadily from her nose, and her pale complexion was woozy.

Yaxley waved his wand at her. "There. No more of your lip until you're ready to talk. Let me lay it out for you, sweetheart. You're already dead. You think we'll leave you behind as a witness even if we don't find Potter? Do us both a favor. I know for a fact that Potter has been with you all night. I know he was the man you claim to be someone else. You can quit with your little fantasy. Tell me where he might be, and perhaps we'll merely wipe your memory instead of killing you. How does that sound? Are you ready to cooperate?"

Tonks glared at him, spitting blood out of her mouth.

"Yaxley?" the blond said. "She's giving you a two-fingered salute behind her back."

Harry's pulse raced. He had to do something. They weren't going to put up with her insolence forever. And what was she playing at anyway? Insults and jokes were only going to make them angrier. He leveled his gaze across the room, trying to see it in terms of a very deadly Quidditch match. There had to be some sort of strategy. And then he saw it.

Tonks' bag containing her Auror kit.

That was it. Harry fairly flew across the floor, a silent ghost, his mind racing. He had seen it before. What was in there that he could use? Her knife? No. Decoy Detonators? Possibly. Potions … no. It wasn't until he reached it that he knew.

_That's it._

He had to hurry. Yaxley was visibly losing patience, and the other Death Eaters were fidgeting, anxious to go before others arrived. Keeping one eye on the other occupants, Harry inched his hand forward infinitely slowly, making sure to stay under the cloak.

"I'm going to give you one more opportunity," Yaxley growled as Harry grabbed the bag. "One more chance to loosen your tongue." He had it unzipped. "Where did you send Harry Potter?" His hand closed around the object he sought.

Tonks merely smirked.

"Fine. Have it your way, then. _Crucio_!"

Afterward, there were two things Harry never could explain. The first was how he managed to remain frozen in place, horrified, as Tonks jerked and seized. The second was how she managed to keep her mouth shut. Through it all, tears ran down her face and veins popped out, but not a scream or whimper emerged, her jaw locked so tightly he expected to hear her teeth grating.

When Yaxley lifted the curse, breathing hard, Tonks slumped over, her bound hands the only thing holding her up. A ragged sigh finally escaped her broken lips.

The blond Death Eater yanked her hair back to lift her head. "What do you have to say now, funny girl?"

It took her several seconds to muster an answer. "Bugger off."

Yaxley brought his wand to bear, and a searing rage surged in Harry's head so hard he fell to one knee. No more. He thrust his hand into the velvety bag he held, grasping a handful of a sand-like powder. With no further thought, he threw it into the air.


	17. Responsibility

**Responsibility**

Harry had expected it would be like shutting off the lights. He hadn't expected a darkness so powerful he couldn't see his hand in front of his face, bringing it closer and closer until he hit his glasses. The black was thick, tactile, all-consuming.

Aware of the yells and curses of those who wished him dead, he wasted no more time. Slinging Tonks' bag over his shoulder, he leaped over the booth in a beeline for where his memory said Tonks was, knocking chairs out of his way carelessly.

"It's me, it's me," he said in a loud whisper when he reached her, yanking at her bonds furiously.

After a surprised shout and initial struggle, Tonks followed when he freed her, clenching her hand and all but dragging her behind him as he aimed for where he thought the exit to be.

"Aaarrghh!"

They crashed into someone solid and heavy. Losing both his footing and his grip on Tonks, Harry crashed to the floor, twisting his ankle painfully beneath him. He swung his arms wildly, afraid to cast a spell for hitting Tonks, but a second later he heard a groan, and someone fell on top of him.

"Tonks?"

"Let's go," she urged him, scrambling to her feet.

It took a minute of following the contour of the wall, and once a curse hit far too near for comfort, but finally Harry's hands felt a knob. He wasted no time in twisting it and falling outside, escaping the terrifying darkness.

"Harry?" Tonks said in astonishment, resting her hands on her knees. "What the hell are you still doing here?"

"You didn't think I was going to leave you, did you?" A little gratitude would have been nice.

"That's exactly what I –"

She dove at him, pinning him to the ground as a jet of light ruffled their hair. The huge blond Death Eater appeared in the doorway, grinning. When Tonks rolled off, Harry threw a body-bind, rolling the opposite way and springing to his feet. Despite his size, the Death Eater was quick, and he parried Harry's spell, advancing with a flurry of curses.

Harry continued running, frantically dodging and weaving as Tonks, unarmed, crouched on one side. His rapid-fire stunners, shot so quickly they looked like a solid stream of red from his wand, were all blocked, so he did something stupid. He charged.

Pushing off with all his strength, Harry dove, sliding underneath the field of spells, the unexpected move providing a brief respite before the Death Eater changed his aim. It was the split-second window Harry needed, and one decisive curse later, his opponent's wand arm was laid bare to the bone, a gruesome show of blood-soaked muscle.

In her own show of recklessness, Tonks attacked the twice-her-size man as soon as his wand dropped harmlessly to the ground. He was strong but she was fast, and with a broken nose and a kick to the groin that even had Harry wincing, he was subdued long enough for Harry to stun him.

"You know what to do," was all Tonks said, digging through his pockets and reclaiming her wand triumphantly.

When Harry finished, Tonks whistled a note of approval before jerking her head toward the diner and setting off in a jog. The duel had taken them down the street. Harry followed. He had no idea if the darkness powder inside the restaurant was still active, whether it had a time limit or someone knew how to clear it.

He was still pondering that when the sidewalk exploded. One minute he was running, passing an alleyway next to the diner, and then he was gasping for air, staring up at the sky several feet back from where he had been. Not sure what was up or down, he sluggishly rolled onto his knees and peered through the haze of concrete dust.

A prone figure that could only be Tonks lay in his vision. Harry began to crawl forward, fervently wishing his senses would return to normal. The world was spinning around him just as it had at the party, making it hard to maintain any sort of equilibrium.

Someone else appeared in front of him, and Harry felt a glimmer of hope; perhaps the help he had sent for had finally arrived, and about time, too. That spark was extinguished when the person took a step toward the unmoving Tonks, raising his wand. Harry lurched to his feet, forcing one foot in front of the other despite a sharp pain in one ankle, and raised his wand in an unsteady hand, a curse on his lips. He had nearly reached his target before the man noticed him, turning with a unfriendly expression. Harry slashed the air –

And the man let out a strangled gurgle before collapsing in a heap, blood dripping from his mouth. Harry slid to a stop, apprehensive. He hadn't been the one to cast a spell, so who did? He whirled to face the alley, wand still held out.

Then, for the first time since the Death Eaters showed up, he felt relief. Standing halfway down the alley, wand still outstretched, was Cooper. If Harry hadn't known the Auror was in love with Tonks by now, that fact couldn't have escaped him any longer, his normally handsome face foreign in its cold ugliness.

"Is she okay?" Cooper asked without taking his eyes off Tonks, rushing forward.

Harry knelt, his heart constricting. She was unconscious, eyes closed, but one quick touch revealed inflating lungs and beating pulse. "I think she's alright," he said, feeling the same relief that fluttered across the other man's tan face.

After Cooper cast a reviving spell, Tonks' eyes fluttered open, the gray searching from Harry to Cooper and back before lucidity set in. They pulled her to her feet and held her steady until she regained what balance she had on a normal day.

"Wotcher," she addressed her partner. "About time."

"What's going on?"

"Death Eaters. Don't know how or why. There are still, what, three more. Oh, and Harry set off some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder inside." Her brief grin was admiring.

"Not anymore. Alex cleared it. We're all here, and I was securing the back when I heard the explosion."

"Let's go, then."

Cooper hesitated. "You two really need to be checked out. Sam's here somewhere …" When neither backed down, he shook his head. "Fine. Stay with me."

"What about him?" Harry asked, pointing at the Death Eater. They shook their heads, and a moment later he understood.

Again they set off at a trot. Harry was beginning to feel glad he'd instituted mandatory runs for his Quidditch team. His ankle throbbed worse than ever, a jolt of pain shooting up his shin with every step, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through it.

When they rounded the corner, approaching the rear entrance, Cooper slowed. "Tonks, take the right and head for the front while I go left and secure the kitchen," he ordered in a decisive tone. Harry wondered how many times the pair had fought side-by-side. "Harry, you stay –"

The back door burst open, and a lean man flew through with a barrage of multicolored spells on his tail. Harry had enough time to note the shabby coat and sandy, grey-streaked hair before three more men spilled out in pursuit.

The Aurors wasted no time springing into action. Each engaged a Death Eater and drove them back, leaving Harry to face one he had already taken out, the man he now knew to be Carrow. Remus was immediately disregarded, and Carrow turned to Harry with a malicious grin and a maniacal glint in his squinty eyes. Any illusion Harry clung to that his disguise still worked was shattered, and no doubt Carrow fancied being the one to turn Harry in to Voldemort.

_Sorry to disappoint._ Harry got the first spell off, an impediment jinx that his opponent blocked mere centimeters from impact. Back and forth they traded spells, looking for chinks in the other's armor. Harry lost sight of his allies and his enemies, settling into the tunnel vision of a duel. Bob, weave, hex, shield, dodge, cast cast cast. Over and over. He was sending a curse, then spinning, rebounding, attacking again. Every tip and trick of the last three months came flying back, and suddenly it was just another midnight duel in the Room of Requirement, albeit with a much less attractive opponent. He could hear Tonks in his head. _Don't fall into a predictive rhythm. Keep those feet moving, Potter. Maintain the offensive. What's at your back? Come on, babe, is that the best you can do? _Harry dove behind some rubbish bins for a second's respite. He was better than this bloke, he knew, he just needed to find his advantage. When the bins were blasted out of the way, he found his inspiration.

After a blitzkrieg of stinging hexes and severing charms, leaving himself open as he attempted to overwhelm Carrow, Harry darted to one side, grabbed the lid of a bin, and chucked it at him. With a sneer, the Death Eater flicked his wand to blast it out of his way.

That was exactly what Harry wanted.

With a swipe he sent a gust of wind toward Carrow at the exact moment the other man blasted it into a thousand tiny metal shards. Carrow held his hands up in a fruitless effort to protect his face, screaming in pain. Harry leveled him with a powerful stunner before the blood began oozing from a dozen punctures.

He had just finished securing the Death Eater (hopefully for the last time) when running footsteps alerted him to company. Remus Lupin sprinted into view, his wand pointed directly at Harry's chest.

"It's me!" Harry said quickly. Remus' suspicion was odd until Harry realized his transfigurations were still in place. He waved a _finite_ across his head. "It's Harry."

"Harry?" Confusion reigned supreme on the werewolf's face. "What's going on? I got your patronus, and …"

"I don't know. We were at a party, and Tonks was upset so we left and came here to eat. Then Death Eaters showed up and she tried to send me away but I wasn't going to leave her, and then –" Harry looked around wildly. "Where is she?"

"The other Auror and I went after Yaxley, but he got away. Tonks ran inside. I think –"

That was all Harry needed to hear. He had every intention of running, but one step proved his ankle had had enough. He bit down on a cry of pain, but his couldn't hide the limp. Without a word Remus stepped forward to offer his shoulder, and together they made their way back as quickly as they could, Remus levitating Carrow.

They found Tonks, Cooper, and Jason in the front of the restaurant. Jason guarded a group of bound and unconscious Death Eaters, all who had attacked minus three: Yaxley, Carrow, and the one with the injured arm. Remus levitated Carrow to him while Harry's attention focused on the other two Aurors.

They stood over the last Death Eater. He was alive and conscious, although his arm was still bent awkwardly and bloody spittle dripped from his mouth. One of Tonks' boots rested on his throat.

"You know what you're facing," Cooper told him quietly. "Azkaban is a certainty. Give us a few answers, and you could make it well easier."

"Azkaban is Azkaban, innit?" the man replied hoarsely.

"You'd be surprised," Cooper continued in that emotionless tone. "Igor Karkaroff could have told you the benefits of speaking up."

"Yeah, 'cept he's dead. Not talking much these days."

"Why did you come here looking for Harry Potter?" Tonks interjected, her voice as hard as a rock. Her shirt was torn, leaving even less to the imagination than before, but other than that, she appeared more or less uninjured.

"Was told to."

"By whom?"

"The bloody Easter bunny. Who do you think? The Dark Lord, you –"

"What's that?" Tonks asked, increasing the pressure with her boot. "Speak up, can't hear you." He began to cough, straining for air.

Cooper sent her a look. "Tonks."

She wasn't listening. "Not calling me a whore now, are you? Not so brave when the wand's in the other hand."

"Tonks."

Her voice cracked like a whip. "Why here? Who said Harry was here? Tell me now!"

"Tonks!" Cooper yanked her arm, pulling her off. The Death Eater gasped like a man drowning.

The two Aurors had an inaudible but furious conversation, ending with Cooper pointing and Tonks stalking away, her face dark and angry. It wasn't until she entered the back room that she saw Harry. She threw her arms around him, squeezing the life out of him, and despite his weariness, despite his aching foot, despite his complete and utter perplexity about what in the world was going on with her, he brightened. She was worried about him.

"You're hurt," she said, glancing at the ankle he favored. "Yes, you are. Hold on, Sam is here somewhere."

Alex had appeared in the interim, and Remus was talking with him. Harry limped his way across the room, looking for a chair. When he passed a door, he heard a whimper.

His wand was out in a flash. He pushed open the door, flicking on a light switch next to it. It looked to be some sort of storeroom, and on the floor –

"Oh, God."

The Muggle man that had been in the diner when Tonks and Harry arrived was stretched out, eyes open and vacant, not a mark on his body. The woman curled in a ball next to him, on the other hand, was bloody, clothes torn. She shook visibly and a constant whimpering moan emerged from her throat.

"Are you …" Harry touched her shoulder, and she screamed. He put his wand away hastily. "It's alright. I'm a friend, I'm going to help you."

Green eyes glanced at him as she continued to shudder, her moan changing to some sort of halting whimper as if she was trying to speak. Harry felt helpless.

"What happened?"

He turned, surprised to see Arthur Weasley in the doorway, Remus behind him.

"Let me through." The small form of Sam Moncrieff pushed his way through, kneeling next to Harry. After a moment's consideration, he stunned the woman, laying her gently on the ground. "It's best right now," he explained to the startled onlookers. "She's in shock and needs medical attention. Then I'll have to turn her over to the Obliviators. Harry, Tonks said your ankle is hurt."

Sam made him stand, probing it gently. With a few spells he had it walkable, the pain all but gone. "Ask Mrs. Tonks for a muscle-knitting potion. A day's rest and you should be good as new."

Leaving the medi-Auror to attend to the stunned Muggle, they filed out. Tonks, Amos Diggory, Alex, and Hestia Jones were waiting.

"Harry, what's going on?" Arthur asked. "Remus sent us all a patronus, said there was an attack, but I didn't know you were involved."

He adjusted his glasses. "It's a long story."

"If I may," Alex interrupted. "We all want an explanation, but you should know there are Ministry officials outside looking for Harry."

Tonks swore, brushing some hair out of her face wearily. "Bugger. The Improper Use of Magic blokes."

"Take him home, Tonks." She shot an uncertain look at her superior, and Alex nodded. "It's fine. I'll get a twenty-four hour stay on any investigation until you get your report in. It's clear self-defense, witnessed by an entire Auror team. Shouldn't be a problem. But Tonks? I want you in my office first thing in the morning." He glanced at his watch. "Which isn't too far from now. Get going."

"Thanks, Bear. Send Coop when he's done, will you?"

At her house, Andromeda met them at the door, pulling her daughter into a choking hug. She did the same to Harry, to his embarrassment, keeping one hand on each of their heads and sweeping searching brown eyes over them when she released him. "Are you alright? What happened? Are you hurt?"

"We're fine, Mum, just let us in the door," Tonks replied impatiently.

They received the same treatment from Mrs. Weasley (where had she come from?), directly behind Andi, and as they entered the living room, it became apparent the nearly the entire Order, as well as those they had met with days before, was gathered. Andi and Mrs. Weasley continued to fuss over them, pushing them onto the sofa and talking over each other with offers of blankets, food, and pain potions.

Harry squirmed under the attention. "No, really, I'm fine. I don't need –"

Tonks elbowed him. "Actually, I'm starving after all that exertion. Something to eat would be great." The two women disappeared.

"Milking it for all its worth?" Harry murmured.

She grinned mischievously. "I'm doing this for them, babe. It makes them feel better, as well as getting them off my back."

Soon everyone had arrived, the room full to bursting, the original Order members eyeing the newcomers with curiosity. Those who had been at the diner were quietly filling in the stragglers, but no one bothered Harry with questions until one voice, commanding in its quiet calmness, rose above the others.

"I believe Harry and Nymphadora will be able to give us a better idea of what happened tonight."

Startled, Harry looked up into blue eyes that, as always, betrayed nothing but polite interest. He hadn't noticed Dumbledore's entrance; for some reason, he felt like a schoolboy about to receive a scolding. He supposed he was, in a way.

Together, Harry and Tonks replayed the night, skimming over the very vague party (which Tonks called a 'gathering of friends'). When they finished, the air hung heavy with disapproval and confusion.

It was Ted who asked the question that was on everyone's mind. "How did they know you were there?"

Cooper spoke up. "The Death Eater I questioned would only say that someone provided You-Know-Who with not only their location, but the fact that Harry was with Tonks in disguise. We'll interrogate them further tomorrow, but You-Know-Who generally keeps fairly tight security practices."

"His followers are well versed in not asking questions," Kingsley added. "Who was the leader?"

Tonks answered, "Yaxley, but he escaped. He's probably the only one who knows."

"As it is, we can infer that it was one of your so-called friends, Tonks," Sturgis Podmore said abruptly. "Someone figured out the truth, followed you, and turned you in."

Her eyes darkened. "I know them. They would never do that. Right, Coop?"

Her friend gave her a sympathetic glance but said nothing. The evidence spoke louder than words.

"I don't believe any of this would have happened if you hadn't gone roaming London," Mrs. Weasley said curtly. "What were you thinking, Tonks? It's your responsibility to keep him safe."

Tonks and Harry both stiffened, but it was Andromeda who spoke first. "Are you saying this is her fault, Molly?"

"Not entirely, but I do think it was a reckless move that could have been avoided."

"So you believe my daughter is irresponsible."

"Dromeda, she's not –"

"If the shoe fits, Ted," muttered someone Harry couldn't place.

Ted replied hotly, but it was lost in the flood of words. Accusations flew across the room like a children's food fight, and from what Harry could decipher, it was due as much to the night's events as to the tension still brewing in the fractured Order.

He fumed. It was just what he wanted to avoid, this endless infighting that stood in the way of actually accomplishing anything. And not to mention blaming Tonks of all people, someone who not only cared about Harry's opinion in all this but had tried so hard to save his skin that she nearly sacrificed her own.

He glanced at the woman in question, next to him, waiting for her to blow up, telling the entire world to bugger off. He was shocked to see that while her lips were pressed together tightly, her head was bowed, eyes fixed on her lap. A most uncharacteristic of poses for the Metamorphmagus, and it took Harry a good minute, Andromeda and Mrs. Weasley bickering loudly over his head, to pinpoint it.

She believed them.

Tonks, who had stood behind him for months, championed him at every turn, taken it upon herself to let him live a little, who by all signs had fallen for him, now agreed with everyone else that she had screwed up, that Harry was someone to be safeguarded, supervised, sheltered.

"STOP!" he shouted, on his feet without being aware of doing it. " Just – just stop it! This isn't helping anything."

Everyone was now staring at him, but Harry looked past all to Dumbledore. He had remained quiet throughout the argument, and he alone had the power to end it with a few words. Order member or not, all listened to Albus Dumbledore.

"Why do you argue so much?" Harry continued. "You're not doing anything. You just talk and talk and blame, and … it's over. It's done. You can't change anything, and we're fine."

"We can't –" Bill began.

"The lad's right," Moody interrupted. "What matters now is discovering who the traitor is in order to prevent a recurrence." He fixed an eye on his young protégé, and Tonks lifted her chin, returning the gaze steadily.

The group settled into a more civilized discussion – Andromeda and Molly, Harry noted with some amusement, were conversing in very polite, very frosty tones – but for him, it was over. Weariness crashed over him, the adrenaline he'd been running on finally at an end. He was vaguely aware of a purple head resting on his shoulder, but beyond that his senses went dull.

"Harry, dear."

He blinked once, gazing into Andromeda's dark eyes. She smiled gently. "Everyone's leaving. Go up to bed."

"What …" It was true. People were filing past him, some still in small groups, others heading for the door. Tonks was nowhere in sight.

He caught Remus before he left, and the man gripped his shoulder. "You did so well tonight," he said in his quiet way. "No one can say you can't defend yourself. Sirius would have been as proud as I."

"Thanks, Remus." Harry took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt to have something to do. "Er, how's Eric?"

The werewolf grimaced. "He's not having the easiest time. I don't know what to do with him. I need to resume my missions, but I can't bring him with me. I don't know what I was thinking, taking him in. I can't be what he needs. I can't be some sort of father figure."

"Why not?"

"I – I just –" He was as agitated as Harry had ever seen him. "You don't understand, Harry. I'm sorry – I should go. It's late, and you've been up all night. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Remus." Harry felt strangely sad as his old professor walked away. He'd always looked up to Remus, and it seemed as if he didn't want that.

Mrs. Weasley was next. He could see the strain underneath her kind face. "Goodness, you've grown even more," she said, giving him a tight hug. "We've all missed you terribly. Did you and Ronald have a row?"

He couldn't lie to her. "There's just a lot going on, Mrs. Weasley."

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing you can't work out. You two have always been like brothers." Harry winced. "Take care of yourself, dear. Don't give me anymore scares like tonight."

"I will, Mrs. Weasley. I'm not one to risk my own skin." He was pleased when she chuckled.

Finally all that remained was Dumbledore, Ted, and Andi. The latter two made themselves scarce as Dumbledore and Harry stood awkwardly (Harry, at least) in the foyer.

"Having a good holiday, Harry?" the Headmaster asked pleasantly.

"Until tonight," Harry replied.

Dumbledore smiled. "To be sure. By all accounts, you acquitted yourself remarkably. However undesirable the circumstances, I'm quite pleased."

"You are?" Harry challenged.

It was very rare one could surprise Albus Dumbledore, but there it was. "Of course I am. My dear boy, I have never had anything but your best wishes at heart. You must understand that."

Harry stared at a picture of Ted and Tonks on the wall, scuffing the edge of the rug underneath his foot. "Sometimes it's hard to understand you."

Dumbledore took a moment to respond. "Harry, as I told you last time we met, when you return to school, I will tell you everything you need to know."

"Good," Harry said, borderline impudent. Snape would have had a fit.

He inclined his head. "Until then. And Harry?"

"Sir?"

"Given the events of tonight, I think it perhaps best if you spent the remainder of your holiday here at the Tonkses' lovely home."

Harry had expected as much. "Yes, sir. Professor?" He turned, politely curious, and Harry gestured at his right hand. "Are you – are you alright?"

Again Dumbledore smiled, and Harry searched him, seeking something in those always-twinkling blue eyes. Something he wasn't quite sure of. "Everything is fine."

When Dumbledore had gone, he turned in search of Tonks. He supposed she could be in bed, but unlikely. Passing Ted's office, he absently glanced over and came to a halt.

Tonks had her back to him, her face buried in Cooper's chest. He held her close, stroking her hair and murmuring into her ear. It was the classic position of comfort; comfort she wasn't seeking from Harry. Then Cooper looked up. Hazel met green, and Harry held his gaze for a long time before pivoting on his heel and heading for his room.

Andromeda intercepted him, and after a few probing questions, she insisted he come to the kitchen and take a potion for his still-sore ankle.

"I'm so very relieved that you're alright, Harry," she said, anxiety still shining in her eyes. She straightened his glasses with a motherly gesture. "Go on to bed now."

Touched, he once again climbed the stairs, intent on dropping into that cushioned bed and not rising for a long time.

"– just wanted him to have some fun, Dad."

The voice floated out from behind the partially-ajar door at the end of the hall. He didn't need two guesses to know who it was, soft and regretful. Harry paused in the doorway of his own room, but before he heard Ted's response he continued and shut the door behind him, assaulted by too many conflicted feelings to talk to anyone.

Despite his turmoil, he was out the moment his messy hair hit the pillow.

**oOo**

"Harry?"

He mumbled something.

"Are you awake?"

"No."

"Okay. Sorry."

Harry pushed himself into a sitting position, focusing his eyes on the blurry figure in his doorway. "No, Tonks, wait. I'm awake. What's wrong?" He grabbed his glasses.

"I can't sleep."

_How_, he wanted to ask. Surely she was as tired as he. "Oh. Do you want me to get up?"

"No, don't. I'll just talk to you for a minute if that's alright." She vacillated in the doorway before finally taking a seat on his bed, crossing her legs. "What's up?"

"Well … I was asleep."

"Right. I'm sorry, I shouldn't –"

Harry grabbed her arm before she could bound off the bed. "Dora, it's fine. I'm awake now. What's going on?"

Through the light that filtered past the curtains, he could see her fidget, looking away from his face. "You know, just one of those times I can't get my mind to turn off," she said, stretching out and propping her head up on one hand. "Reckoned I'd come bother you. Have I told you yet how sexy your rescue act was?"

She reached out to trace his jaw. Only a blanket separated them, and it was strangely exciting. He was wide awake now. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. I quite like having my own personal hero."

Harry scowled. "Don't call me that. I didn't really do that much. If everyone else hadn't showed up –"

Tonks put her fingers over his lips. "Sweetheart, shut up. First of all, you have to learn how to take a bloody compliment. You did so well tonight. I'm impressed, and I'm not the only one."

He was glad she couldn't see him flush. He had just done what had to be done.

"Secondly," she continued. "I'm trying to flirt with you. If a bird calls you sexy, you ought to roll with it."

"Duly noted," he replied with a grin. He'd never known someone so forward. "So you like it when I, er, rescue you?"

"I'd never thought I'd enjoy being a damsel in distress, but it does have a certain attraction." Tonks held up one finger. "Not, however, that I couldn't have easily taken care of it on my own."

"Really? Six against one, tied up and disarmed?"

"Are you joking? That barely warrants a sweat." She sighed dramatically. "It's hard to be this awesome and still give others a chance."

Harry gave her a patronizing pat on the head. "Such a burden."

"It's a daily struggle, I tell you. Hey, I never got the chance to ask: what happened between you going to the toilet and the instant darkness powder?"

"Well, I was in the loo and I heard …" Although he still believed everyone was making too big a deal of it, there was a part of Harry that was pleased. He'd proven himself.

When he finished, Tonks was quiet. He glanced down in disbelief. Her eyes were closed, but then she stirred.

"'m glad you were there, babe," she mumbled, her voice fuzzy with encroaching sleep. "All night, and now."

"Tonks, what's wrong?" he asked hesitantly. "You've been acting strange all night, and now you're in here …"

She fell silent for so long Harry again believed she had fallen asleep. "You're so safe, Harry."

**oOo**

Tonks was gone when he woke.

Despite her claims of not being able to sleep, she had done so almost immediately despite his continued questions. Harry had spent a long 'night' awake, for not only was a woman sleeping in his bed, she was doing so very restlessly. Tonks had tossed and turned, muttering in her sleep, "no" and "please" and "stop" and "nick", once crying out with what was unmistakably terror. He could only presume she was having a horrible nightmare about someone stealing something precious, and he pulled her close until she calmed.

He had slept away a good chunk of the day, his inner clock thrown off by the late night, and he spent the rest of it in quiet with Ted and Andromeda, reading a book on shield charm variants and wishing he could practice.

It was nearly midnight before Tonks returned, yawning. Her parents were asleep

"Nothing," she said without preamble, dropping into an armchair adjacent to Harry with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. He switched off the BBC. "None of those arseholes know a bloody thing except they were to capture you alive."

"Could they be lying?"

She shook her head, blonde ringlets bouncing. "No. Thanks to you, we can interrogate them much more strongly than we used to. They got the full Veritaserum treatment and more, and besides, Coop's the best. They simply weren't told more than they needed to know, and like good sheep, they didn't ask." Her voice betrayed grudging admiration.

Harry supposed he should be more bothered by the situation; everyone else certainly was. It wasn't that he enjoyed being hunted, and putting those he cared about in danger he liked even less, but he knew Voldemort was after him. He wasn't going to simply take a break and wait for Harry to come of age or finish school. And as for who had leaked his whereabouts … he and Tonks hadn't been careful, he had to admit, roaming around London all break. The Order had Snape, so he had to assume Voldemort had – Snape. Harry pondered that for a long moment before forcing it from his mind. He detested Severus Snape, but he wasn't an earnest first year any more. Snape was part of the Order, and only the Order and Tonks' Auror team knew where he was staying. None would betray him.

For once, Tonks didn't seem inclined to speak, picking at her fingernails. "Are they going to Azkaban?" Harry asked merely to continue the conversation.

"Yeah. They'll have a trial first, but it's a guarantee."

And speaking of trials … "They're not going on about me using magic, are they? The Ministry?" he asked anxiously. _The last thing I need._

Tonks smiled, but there was something hollow about it. "No, of course not. I got it all sorted today."

"The perks of having a girlfriend in law enforcement," he remarked with a grin.

She made some sort of halfhearted laugh, withdrawing her gaze from his and running a hand through her hair as she stood. "S'pose. Listen, I'm knackered. We'll talk tomorrow, yeah?"

"Sure," he agreed slowly, speculating as to what he'd done wrong.

At the foot of the stairs, she turned. "By the way, I have some news. They granted our request to bring Borgin in for more thorough questioning. We'll have the warrant in a few days."

"That's excellent," he said. "If anyone knows something about Malfoy, it's him."

"That's the hope," she agreed. "And, your friend Katie woke up last night."

He shot out of his chair. "Katie? Really? Is she going to be okay?"

"She'll be in St. Mungo's for a bit longer, but all tests point to no lasting effects from the curse."

"Good," he said with relief. "Does she know anything?"

"The last thing she remembers is going to the loo, and then nothing. Heavy Imperius Curse, that." She sighed. "Bang out of luck today. Hopefully it goes better with Borgin. Well, goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight," he repeated, watching her depart.

He returned to his place on the sofa, his mind far too awake to contemplate sleep just yet. He really looked forward to the day when he had more answers than questions.


	18. Ron

**Ron**

"I'm bored."

Harry glanced at the young woman stretched out on the floor, her feet on her bed. He commiserated. Simply the knowledge that they'd been told to stay put made it that much harder to bear. "It hasn't even been a day. Are you suggesting a jailbreak?"

Her eyes lit up, violet today. "That's exactly what I'm suggesting. I mean, go on. I'm twenty-two, and I'm all but confined to my parents' house. This is bloody ridiculous. I had enough of that when I was a teenager."

"You, in trouble? I don't believe it."

She made a face. "My summers always ended with me stuck in this very room. 'Grounded until you return to Hogwarts' – I can still hear the exact way Mum said it."

Harry chuckled. "And what did you do that was so horrible?"

"When I was fifteen, I snuck out to go to a concert with my cousins. Climbed down this very tree outside my window, which was much easier than climbing up later. I fell out and broke my wrist. When I was sixteen, I was caught smoking," She ticked them off on her fingers, a litany of misdeeds. "When I was seventeen, I threw a massive party. Mum and Dad had gone to visit some old friends in Dorset or Cornwall, somewhere around there, and left me overnight. I woke up in the morning still pissed underneath a shrub in the garden wearing nothing but my bra, knickers, wellies, a scarf, and a fedora I'd never seen before. No idea how I got there. My mate Ellie was on the roof. I managed to get everyone in the Floo before my parents came home, but the mess was still there. Only time I ever heard Dad yell louder than Mum."

"I can't picture that."

"Honestly, all I did was tell myself not to be sick all over him."

Harry grinned. "Probably a good idea. So what do you want to do?"

"Oh, I don't know. Forget I said anything. Let's just watch a film. I don't want to deal with Mum or Dad if one comes home early and find us gone." Climbing off the floor, she slumped in the window seat, her smiles and good mood gone once more, just as it had been all day.

Harry took one last sip of his soft drink, annoyance fizzing along with the carbonation. He could ignore it and just deal with a sulky Metamorphmagus, or he could call her on it and start a row. Neither choice was pleasant, but she had been shut off from Harry since the party, and he'd had enough. "Okay, Dora, what's wrong now?"

Tonks turned her head toward him in a deliberate manner. "Excuse me?"

"You've been upset since the party. Every time you start to act like you again, it's like you remember you're supposed to be angry. Come off it. What's going on?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit." That at least earned her attention, eyebrows raised. "Nearly leaving me at the party, climbing into my bed, and oh, let's not forget you and Cooper. I saw you yesterday, after everyone left.

Tonks stood slowly, arms crossed. She stared out the window, quiet, and Harry prepared himself for another denial. Instead she rounded on him. "Why didn't you go when I told you?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

It was all Harry could do not to gape. _That's_ what it was about? "What, and leave you to be killed? Are you mad?"

"No. I'm an Auror, a supposed professional who prides herself on her abilities and then promptly goes arse over tits and completely loses any semblance of decision-making skills because some fit sixteen-year-old looks her way."

That stung. "Oh, I see. I'm just a cute boy."

"No, you're _Harry_, and that's ten times worse. It was all my fault, the whole bloody mess, and when I did one thing right, when I sent you away, you mucked it up."

She'd been looking down on him, but now he stood. "All your fault? Don't be daft. It's not your fault at all! You tried to take them all on, and then what happened to how sexy my rescue act was?"

Tonks flushed, pacing across the room. "It was, but I would have preferred you to be safe. You promised, Harry, promised you would do as I say."

"I'm sorry, I thought this was a relationship, not a dictatorship," he retorted.

Strangely, she flinched. "Well, it's not – you're missing the point. Don't you understand?"

"No, I don't. All I know is that there's no way I'm going to run away when you're in danger. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you, Dora."

"That's just it!" Anger traveled across her face. "How do you think I feel? Do I have to say it?"

"Say what?" he asked carefully, taking a step forward.

"You just – you do … you make me care for you, Harry! So don't blame me because it bloody terrifies me to think of you getting hurt or – or worse, and to know that you ended up in a dangerous situation because I let my emotions override common sense!" Her voice rose. "Damn it, stop trying to save everyone!"

Harry held her gaze, something in his chest tightening, and when she opened her mouth to speak again, he crossed the remaining distance between them and kissed her. For a moment her arms wrapped around him, fingernails clenching his shoulders as she responded to his lips, and then she shoved him away.

Tonks glared at him with dark eyes. "Stop kissing me when I'm yelling at you!"

Once again Harry moved closer until there were mere inches separating the couple, gazing at the heart-shaped face that rippled with complex emotions he couldn't begin to identify. "No," he said simply.

This time she didn't resist, and he felt the tension flow out of her as she sighed against his mouth. Their kisses were languid, just shy of lazy, both taking the time to taste the other. With cherry in his mouth and apple in his nose, Harry dragged his lips down her neck to her shoulder, and she sighed again.

His chest pounded like a bass drum when nimble fingers ran up and down his back. Without asking for permission, Tonks pulled his shirt off, tossing it to parts unknown then giving him the filthiest grin he'd ever seen. Harry gasped when she wasted no time in unbuttoning his trousers; perhaps that was why she stopped, leaving them hanging loose as her lips attacked his again.

If it wasn't for the sensory overload, Harry would have thought it a dream. They couldn't get enough of each other, the initial unhurried pace forgotten as mouths, warm and wet, explored every bit of exposed skin. His hands clenched her waist under her shirt with bruising intensity, the skin so hot at his touch he wondered how she could stand it. He was going out of his mind. The touching and snogging and nipping was almost too much for him to handle, and yet he never wanted to end.

Tonks, ever the one in charge, had other ideas. When his hands inched upward daringly, she whipped her shirt off in one fluid motion and helpfully wiggled out of her jeans as well.

It must be said that Harry gawked. All sorts of enticing bare flesh, fair and toned, filled his vision. When she stepped backward, his hands followed involuntarily, and she giggled. A finger beckoned, and he complied eagerly, reaching for the simple pink knickers and matching bra.

One step proved that his trousers had fallen to his knees, and Harry pitched forward, crashing into the half-naked Auror and sending both onto the bed.

Tonks laughed again, stroking his hair in a curiously tender gesture given the purely lust-filled nature of their encounter thus far. She pulled his face to hers, and they met in a deep kiss, both releasing wanton moans. Somehow she managed to push his trousers off completely with her feet, and when he felt two hands grip his arse, he was suddenly very aware of how thin his boxer shorts were.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows, contemplating the woman wriggling beneath him. He was overwhelmed, unable to put into words what few coherent thoughts he could grasp. All he knew was that he was nervous and excited and scared and happy at the same time, and he desperately wanted to convey what she meant to him.

"Harry James Potter," Tonks said in a sultry voice, running one foot along the back of his leg while a hand wound around his neck. "What have I gotten myself into with you?"

Before he could begin to interpret that enigmatic comment, she flipped him over in an impressive maneuver, straddling his waist and sitting upright, gazing down at him with darkened, heavily lidded eyes. For the briefest moment, the resemblance with another woman, another witch, another Black, was terrifyingly uncanny, and then she slowly pulled his hands up, resting them on her breasts.

Harry stopped thinking, stopped breathing, would have thought he stopped existing had it not been for the all too real sensations all around him. How could something be soft and firm at the same time? She smiled, mysterious and knowing and wicked, and straightened again, reaching behind herself to the clasp of her bra …

The doorbell rang.

Both froze, but after a moment Tonks shrugged. "They can bugger off," she whispered, leaning over to press her lips to his shoulder. "I'm busy."

She began to make her way down his chest at an agonizingly slow pace, and Harry gripped the blanket in his fists, his breath coming quickly and deeply. If this was how she ended rows, he was going to argue more often.

The doorbell rang again.

Tonks swore, pushing herself off and dressing. She muttered various threats under her breath for the person at the door, but Harry figured nothing was worse than the situation she was leaving him in. She flashed an apologetic grin his way before she left. Despite hearing voices, Harry took his time getting dressed.

"Look who I found!" Tonks announced when he came downstairs.

Remus and Eric were standing in the living room. The former gave Harry a smile, while the latter merely looked his way with a bored expression.

"Butterbeer?" Tonks asked, disappearing without waiting for an answer.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, trying not to sound peeved at the interruption. He was always pleased to see Remus, of course; he simply wished they'd waited a bit longer.

"Just thought we would stop by and visit, if you aren't busy. We didn't get much of a chance to talk on New Year's."

Eric snorted. "Speak for yourself, Lupin. Only you and old women 'visit.' I was bored."

"You're always bored," Remus replied with a sprinkling of impatience. "Perhaps if you'd reconsider going back to school –"

"No," Eric interjected in a hard voice, grinding his teeth.

"Why not?"

Tonks reappeared, tossing each a bottle of butterbeer before dropping onto the sofa directly next to Eric, sending the cap of her bottle shooting across the room. "Oops. Why don't you want to go back to Hogwarts?" she persisted.

The young werewolf looked slightly alarmed at the woman nearly on top of him. "I just don't want to," he stated, end of discussion.

Either she didn't pick up on that, or she ignored it. "But why not? I loved Hogwarts. Once you leave, you have to do all the boring adult stuff like get a job and pay bills. Believe me, mate, stay as long as you can."

Harry joined in. "How do you expect to find a job if you haven't finished school?"

Eric laughed harshly. "Lack of N.E.W.T.s. Yeah, that's what's going to stop me from working."

"Eric," Remus began.

"What? You don't have a job."

Uncomfortable silence reigned. Harry knew it was a sore spot for his old professor, and a twinge of anger pricked his mind. Werewolf or not, Eric had to be the most ungrateful person he'd ever met.

Before his temper flared, Tonks laughed, startling the tense men. "You need to loosen up, mate. Any more tightly wound, and you'd pop a spring. Want to exchange that butterbeer for something stronger?"

"Tonks!"

She was, as usual, completely unabashed. "Do you know, you sound exactly like Molly when you say my name like that. You need to unwind, too, old man."

"A little rest and relaxation never hurt anyone," said Harry.

"You remember!" Tonks beamed, and Harry grinned in her glow.

"Before you two jump each other's bones," Eric said dryly, what passed for his good humor seemingly restored by the offer of an adult beverage. "Did you just call him an old man?"

Tonks and Remus shared a grin. "Yeah," she admitted. "Bit of a nickname he picked up last year. Blame it on Sirius."

"Really? Why?" Harry leaned forward eagerly.

They exchanged another look, and it was only when Remus shrugged that Tonks began. "First, you have to understand that Sirius could get Remus to relax like no one else. And the stories I heard? Those two, along with your dad, raised hell, Harry. Puts my time at Hogwarts to shame, and I worked hard for my record."

Eric was staring at Remus like he'd never seen him before.

"So one day Sirius got this crazy notion –"

"And once he got an idea in his head, there was no budging," Remus added, an uncharacteristically boyish grin on his face that made him look a decade younger. "Remind me someday to tell you about the infirmary prank of 1973."

"Or the time we actually managed to shut up my dear great-aunt, although I tell you that bitch could teach me a thing or two about swearing," said Tonks. "Anyway, he came up with this notion that Remus and I were perfect for each other, despite our entirely sincere and hearty refutations. And he would not stop. Cue the love letters –"

"The candlelight dinners –"

"The incredibly unsubtle hints in the middle of Order meetings –"

"And a very cunning alliance with Molly Weasley."

"And one day I passed by the drawing room, where Remus was attempting to convince him for the umpteenth time that we weren't going to fall in love, telling him that he was way too old for me."

"I babysat you," Remus said by way of explanation.

"And it's been old man ever since," finished Tonks.

Harry smiled. Would he always get this bittersweet ache when he heard Sirius's name?

"Funny, but who's Sirius?" Eric asked.

This time the silence was deafening. Harry tightened his grip on his bottle of butterbeer, staring intently at the label.

Remus finally broke the silence. "My best friend."

"My cousin."

"My godfather."

"He was killed last summer," Remus added in a strained voice.

"More butterbeer? Pumpkin juice? Whiskey?" Tonks jumped up hurriedly.

"I'll help." Eric was on her heels as they dashed out of the tension-filled room.

"This sucks," Harry muttered. "I hear these stories, and one minute I'm laughing, and then –"

"You look around to see his grin."

"Yeah. It's strange, you know. I didn't actually spend that much time with him, but …" Harry finally looked up. "Do you miss him?"

Remus turned away into the past. "Every day. And James, and Lily, and the Peter I thought was my friend."

"Does it ever go away?"

"No."

The crash of something breaking leaked out of the kitchen, and they shared an amused smile. Before he could say anything, Tonks sped through the room, distinctly irritated.

"I have to go to work. I'm sorry," she announced succinctly. Summoning her kit as she pulled on her coat, she was gone in less than a minute.

"You would not believe how often that happens," Harry said.

"Where'd she go?" Eric asked.

"She's an Auror," Remus replied before Harry could. "Death Eater attack somewhere, I imagine. I suppose she left a mess in the kitchen? I'll take care of it." When he returned, he didn't resume his seat. "Harry, I wonder if you'd like to come with us to visit the Burrow."

"You didn't ask me if I'd like to," accused Eric.

"Molly has been asking after you," Remus continued to Harry. "I suspect there's a reason you didn't stay there over the holiday, but I know she would love to see you before you return to school."

Guilt was a sneaky little titch. It crept up with nary a footstep, but once there it clung with a tenacious grip. "Yeah, sure," Harry gave in, knowing he wouldn't let himself forget if he didn't.

After a scribbled note to Tonks, Ted, or Andi, depending on who arrived first, they Floo'd over. Mrs. Weasley was ecstatic, talking over herself with more "dears" than normal and ushering them in until somehow Harry found himself squished on the settee with a bemused Eric and a sullen Ron while she retrieved drinks and snacks.

Ginny looked at the three boys, all with varying degrees of discomfort evident on their faces. "Isn't this awkward?" she said with a smirk.

"Don't you have love letters to write?" Ron retorted rudely.

"Yes, I do. If you finish yours soon, I'll owl it for you. Be sure to sign it, 'From your sweetheart, Won-Won!'" was her parting shot as she disappeared upstairs.

The tips of Ron's ears went red. Eric asked what Harry was thinking. "Won-Won?"

His flush traveled down his neck. "It's nothing – Lavender – never mind!"

The air around was electrically charged, so tense a mere spark could set off an inferno. Harry cursed Remus for bringing him here, Ron for acting like a prat, and, for good measure, whatever idiots had caused Tonks to be called out.

"Are you two having a lover's quarrel?" Eric asked bluntly. The boys sputtered with fast and furious denial, and he held his hands out defensively. "Sorry I asked. Where's your loo? The brotherly bonding in here is killing me."

Ron pointed directions, and they were left alone. Harry fidgeted with the edge of his coat, trying to think of something to say. _I'm sorry for hexing you. My scar made me do it. If you weren't such a git … Tonks does fancy me, so there._ Not quite right.

He decided on, "Have a good Christmas?" Nice neutral topic, just enough to test the waters. Ron grunted, staring at the opposite window. Apparently the waters were cold, unfriendly, and still pissed off.

Mrs. Weasley came in, and Harry could have hugged her. She carried a tray of sandwiches. Remus followed with a jug of pumpkin juice.

"Harry, dear, I have something for you. I was going to post it once you returned to Hogwarts, but since you're here, I'll give it to you now. It's in Ron's room. Why don't you two run up and get it?"

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he said, startled. He hadn't expected a Christmas present, and he guiltily reflected he ought to have brought something.

With a sulky glance at his mother, Ron walked away, and Harry was forced to accompany him. Mrs. Weasley hadn't really left them a choice.

Ron finally spoke when they reached his room. "Here," he said, tossing a parcel to Harry, then dropping onto his bed, dislodging some rumpled orange pajamas onto the floor.

He knew was it was before he tore open the paper. A thick hand-knitted jumper fell into his hands, green this year with a yellow 'H' embroidered on the front. The traditional Weasley jumper, given only to family members and, without fail, Harry every year since he met Ron. He turned around, not wanting to give away the lump in his throat, and his eyes fell on something quite unusual in anyone's room, much less Ron's.

"What is this?" he asked, holding up a large gold necklace with the words 'My Sweetheart' in loopy script.

Ron turned bright pink, snatching it out of his hands and burying it in a dresser. "It's nothing. It's …" he trailed off.

"What?"

"It's a Christmas present from Lavender!" he repeated. "I don't know what she was thinking, I'd never wear it, it's so horrible."

Harry held it together for a second longer before bursting into loud laughter, his shoulders shaking helplessly as he slid to the ground. Amazingly, Ron joined in, chuckling along despite his still-wary expression.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen!" Harry exclaimed when he caught his breath. Ginny's last comment made much more sense.

"She must be mad! And I have to pretend I like it," Ron agreed.

They shared a look, the last traces of amusement slipping from their faces, and then both spoke at the same time.

"I'm sorry, I never meant –"

"I'm really sorry for all the –"

One more mutual chuckle as they stopped.

"Let me go first," Harry said quickly. "I, er, I'm really sorry for hexing you. It was stupid, and I regretted it as soon as it happened. I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't. Thinking, I mean."

"I probably deserved it," Ron said a low voice, eyes on his hands. "I've been nearly as big of a prat as Percy. Mind you, not quite. Git sent back his jumper again. But – you know I didn't mean what I said, right? Not really."

"But you were right, mostly. I shouldn't expect you to jump whenever I say. You can figure things out for yourself. And the Department of Mysteries – I don't blame you. It's dangerous being my friend."

"Having been hexed by you, I'd say not as dangerous as being your enemy," Ron replied with a shaky chortle. "I don't blame you for that. You tried to get us to stay behind, especially Ginny."

Harry didn't say anything. That entire adventure had been one colossal screw-up.

"Part of me might always be jealous of you, I reckon," Ron continued rapidly, as if forcing it out. "You get so much, Harry. You have money and you're famous and you get good marks and you're good at Quidditch and all the girls fancy you."

Harry squashed the usual refrain of _But I didn't ask for any of it._ "But you come home to this," he said instead, gesturing.

"But I come home to this," repeated Ron. "And I wouldn't trade it. I guess what I'm trying to say is I don't _want_ to be jealous of you. I'm trying."

"I don't want to be angry with you."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"So," Ron said after an extended period of silence. "How about the Cannons?"

Harry laughed. It felt good to laugh with Ron again. "Bottom of the league as usual."

"They're making a comeback. Just you wait."

"Maybe," Harry allowed. "Um, I need to thank your mum."

"Okay. I'll come down, too."

Harry's steps felt light as he descended. Things weren't perfect with Ron, and they might not ever regain the friendship they once had, but they were talking, and that was enough for now. "You know what Hermione would say if she was here?" he asked as they passed the twins' old room.

"Boys!" Ron said in a high voice. "And then she'd start crying."

"Who's crying?"

Harry started at the familiar voice, stopping at the bottom of the staircase. "Tonks?"

"Bill's not here," Ron blurted out.

Tonks raised her eyebrows, and Harry reminded himself to set Ron straight on the matter. "Too bad."

"You're back!" Harry said, pleased.

She smiled, shrugging out of her winter clothing at the door. Just back, it seemed. "I am."

"And you're … wet," he said, noting the limp, stringy hair.

"I am," she repeated, amused. "Those spectacles must be worth the dosh, keen eyes like yours." Harry grinned as everyone laughed, and Tonks winked. "I had to take a shower, I wasn't presentable for human company."

"Surely it wasn't as bad as that," Mrs. Weasley said anxiously, patting her arm on the way to the kitchen.

Tonks looked startled. "Bad? It was over and done with by the time we arrived. No, one of the Hit Wizards couldn't handle his breakfast and threw up all over me. Bloody rookie. Ten years on a DMLE squad before he transferred, and a little blood sends him over the edge."

"Blood? From what?" asked Ron with interest. Like Harry, he often chaffed about being left out of Order affairs.

She didn't answer, instead choosing a seat next to Remus. "Rem, what do you know about vampires?"

Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Eric (who had been chatting across the room) all shut up and leaned in with eager ears.

"Vampires …" Remus mused. "Not much, I'm afraid. Historically, vampires and werewolves have been enemies."

"Which doesn't make sense because they've been just as discriminated against. They're right alongside werewolves in _Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans_. They have a common animosity toward the Ministry."

"But look at the Order and the Ministry," Harry interjected. "They have a common enemy in Voldemort –" All the Weasleys plus Eric flinched. "– but that doesn't mean they'll work together."

Remus smiled. "Wise words. Vampires have always looked down on us because they, unlike werewolves, maintain their sense of being after being turned. But every full moon, a werewolf transforms. Is there evidence they're working with Voldemort now? I haven't heard anything from Greyback."

"I don't know. Remus, I've never seen anything like it. The amount of blood was staggering. Absolutely drenched, as if they'd drunk their fill but didn't want to stop." She grimaced. "And the bodies … so white, and something terribly _wrong_ about them. They had the bite marks, that's for sure."

"And they were dead?" Ginny asked. "Like, permanently dead."

"Yes, I'm curious about that as well," Remus added.

"How can you tell if a person is dead or undead?" Tonks asked with a shrug. "Suppose they'll know in the morgue later tonight. It was dead creepy, pardon the pun, and I scarpered as soon as I could. Nothing much I could do, at any rate. The victims were, well, beyond my help. And I reckon they got what they came for – Spencer Pecunias is missing. It was his home."

"Who's that?" Ron asked. By the blank faces, no one else knew.

"Ministry liaison to Gringotts." She let the implications sink in. "He'd have to be a bigger nutter than I imagined to go after Gringotts."

Remus shook his head. "Bill assures us the goblins refuse to get involved."

"Bill can assure us all he wants, but – thanks, Molly, this looks delicious – if Voldemort makes another move, it's going to get ugly, and who's to say they'll leave the lot of us out of it? Most goblins distrust all wizards, not just Dark ones."

"There hasn't been a goblin rebellion in over a century, when Bovrok the Bold fancied a spot on the Wizengamot," Remus countered. "I'm just as concerned about the vampire issue. If Voldemort –"

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat. "I think this could best be discussed at a later time, don't you?" she said with a significant look at each.

Tonks was clearly struggling not to laugh. "Sure thing, Molly. So, goblin rebellions, old man? You were one of those who actually took notes in History of Magic, weren't you?"

"Received an E on my O.W.L."

"I knew it. I had to revise my arse off to scrap an A. Binns has to be the worst teacher ever, exceeded only by Snape."

"What about Trelawney?" Harry asked.

"Never took Divination. Seemed a waste of time."

"You took Divination, Potter?" Eric snorted. "What a load of tosh."

Tonks flashed the young werewolf a grin. "Too right. Binns was bad enough. I once walked out of class every day for a month straight. Just stood up and walked out the door while he droned on about giants."

"Why'd you stop?" Ginny inquired, while Mrs. Weasley's mouth quivered under a look of disapproval.

"Professor Sinistra happened to be passing the classroom when I exited one day."

"Rotten luck," Ron commented.

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat again. "You'll stay for dinner, won't you, Tonks, Remus? I've put a roast on."

"Sounds good. I'll help!"

"No, that's quite alright," Mrs. Weasley told the Auror hurriedly. "Ronald, lay the table."

"Can't Mum, sorry. I, uh, told Eric I'd, er, show him my Chocolate Frog card collection."

Ron shot for the stairs, and Eric followed. Harry had one more task. He enveloped Mrs. Weasley in a tight hug. "Thanks for the jumper, Mrs. Weasley," he said. "It's fantastic."

"Oh, go on, you," she said, returning the embrace. He thought he heard her voice shake. "You're welcome, dear. Now catch up with the boys; we'll call when it's time for dinner."

"Are you shagging her?" Eric asked as soon as Ron's door shut behind Harry. "The bird with the odd hair?"

Harry froze. He saw Ron tense in the middle of shoving a pile of robes off his bed. Regardless of how unfair it was, he knew Ron could see this as yet one more thing Harry had that was better. He wasn't prepared to shatter their fragile peace.

Fortunately (and ruefully at the same time; he had Eric himself to thank for that), he didn't have to lie. "Tonks? No."

"Why not?"

"Well … I don't often go around shagging my friends. Makes things a bit sticky, you see." Ron made a sound that could have been a snigger.

Eric snorted. "I would, were I you. She's fit and she's looks at you like her favorite treacle tart."

Harry flushed. "Yeah, well, I'm just … not." He turned to Ron. "Nor is Bill, by the way. I asked Tonks."

"Harry! Why'd you say something to her?"

"She doesn't care, and she assured me she's not having it off with Bill."

Ron nodded. "That's good. And, uh, you and Tonks?"

Eric's knowing smirk and Ron's accepting gaze were practically answers in themselves. "Yeah, you know, we're – yeah. We're good."

"Nice," Eric remarked, far too expressly for Harry's liking. He shot him a look.

Strangely, Ron looked relieved. "So you and Hermione – you're not – ?"

Harry rushed to reassure him. "No, not at all. We went together to Slughorn's party because we were both already going, that's all. I don't know how those rumors were started." He didn't miss the pink tint on Ron's cheeks.

"The girl at your house, Potter?" Eric eyed Ron. "You fancy her?"

The flush went full-blown. "Hermione? No, of course not, not at all, I – I have a girlfriend."

Hermione's words at the Quidditch pitch flashed through Harry's mind, and he swallowed, torn between his loyalties to his two best friends. "Listen," he said to Eric, trying to sound apologetic. "Do you mind giving us a minute?"

"Oh, I'll just show myself out, then," he said snidely. "Maybe I'll find that sister of yours," he called over his shoulder.

"You stay away from my sister!" Ron yelled. "I don't think I like him," he said when Eric was gone.

Harry shrugged. "Oddly, he grows on you. So, um, about Hermione –"

"I'll never be good enough for her, Harry."

He blinked. "What? No, don't say that about yourself."

"No. I mean, she'll never think I'm good enough for her." Harry was stunned, and his silence encouraged Ron to continue. "You know how she is. I'm not trying to put her down, Merlin, I've bloody fancied her like mad for two years, but I don't think we could ever work. She always wants us to study more and get better marks and be involved with the spew shite. She's going to do something great, Hermione, and I can't keep up with that."

Now Harry was aghast enough to speak. Was his self-confidence so low? "Ron, don't be thick. Your marks are fine, and, you know, you're on the Quidditch team now, and –"

"Was," Ron interrupted in a tight voice. "I was. I quit, remember?"

Right. "I haven't replaced you yet."

"You should. Don't do me any favors, Harry. I quit, and I have to deal with it. Maybe I'll try out again next year; I don't know." Ron paused. "Since you and I haven't been speaking, it's mostly been me and Lavender. I truly like her."

Harry looked up. "Really? I got the impression it was mostly …"

"Snogging?" Ron gave an embarrassed smile. "It was, at first. But we talk now, too. She actually likes me, Harry. She's interested in me and she reckons I'm great, and yeah, sometimes she gossips too much or goes on about clothes, but I think I like talking to her as much as I like kissing her. Sounds mad, doesn't it?"

Harry had to grin. "No."

"It's been nice, someone interested in me as Ron, not me as Bill or Charlie or the twins' brother, or Harry's friend. Not that that's bad, but … it's nice to have both."

"Like being Harry instead of the Boy Who Lived."

"Yeah." They fell silent for a moment. "I think I'm going to drop Potions, too."

"What? Why?"

"I'm rubbish at it, you know that. I don't know how I passed my O.W.L. I only took it because I wanted to be an Auror, or so I thought. Remember when we chose classes in second year, and you used took whatever I signed up for? Being an Auror is like that. It sounds really cool and all, but I think in the end I was going for it just because you were."

"So what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. I'm going to ask McGonagall if I can take Care of Magical Creatures even though I missed first term. Either I'll have some fun or I'll be killed by one of Hagrid's pets."

Harry laughed, but it was hollow. His happiness was mixed with a swirl of sadness; Ron was back, but he wasn't the same Ron. They'd always been together, since they were two wide-eyed eleven-year-olds swapping Every Flavor Beans on the Hogwarts Express, and now they were moving in different directions.

"Good on you, mate," he finally said with a smile that wasn't even forced.

"Yeah?" Harry sensed the seeking of approval.

"Yeah. It sounds like a good plan, but planning has never been my strong suit, so take that for what it's worth. And I'd be glad to have you back on my Quidditch team next year."

They shared grins before looking away, clearing their throats gruffly.

"I better go make sure that git's not near my little sister," Ron said suddenly, standing and throwing Harry a sly look. "And maybe you want to get back to Tonks?"

Ginny and Eric were involved in a game of chess, and Ron made a beeline while Harry dropped onto the settee next to Tonks.

"You look happy," she whispered. "Did you kiss and make up?"

He grinned again. "Yeah."

"Should I be jealous?"

"Probably."

Tonks laughed, squeezing his hand, and when Ginny threw a rook at Ron, Harry just leaned back and watched the ensuing argument, entirely content.

**oOo**

It was late before they returned. After catching up, Ted and Andromeda went to bed, and Harry watched Tonks fuss over her Auror kit. For someone generally messy, she was quite particular about it.

"I think that's all …" Tonks folded her arms and examined her kit one last time. "I feel like I'm forgetting something."

"The kitchen sink. It's downstairs," Harry said helpfully.

She gave him a look. "Oh, I know what's missing. My Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder."

Harry's grin turned abashed. "I'll buy you more."

"Don't worry about it, babe. It was a very effective use. Confused the piss out of everyone, including me. I'll get some from Fred and George. They give me a discount."

"That's nice of them."

"Yeah, all I had to do was flash my tits."

"You did what!" Harry sputtered.

She guffawed, her eyes dancing. "Just taking the mickey, babe, calm down. Of course I didn't. They call it a good friend discount."

Harry smiled sardonically, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. He really needed to stop being so gullible when it came to Tonks. The problem was that he could easily see her doing that.

"Nymphadora!"

Tonks rolled her eyes as she slid off her bed. "Would it kill her to call me Dora?" she muttered under her breath.

He chuckled to himself. Andromeda was as obstinate in using only her full name as Tonks was in rejecting it. He was debating on whether to follow her downstairs or wait in her room when his eyes fell on the innocent bag on her bed.

Now was his chance.

After a brief argument with his conscience – Tonks would understand once he got results – he darted forward and gently searched the bag, trying not to move anything out of place. He easily found the object of his desire, and when he pulled it out, a crumpled scrap of parchment was stuck to it.

_Nymphadora –_

_What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet_.

_Enjoy the chocolates._

– _H_

She kept it. Not only that, but she carried it with her wherever she went. Harry held the note in his hand until the last second, footsteps warning him of company.

"What's going on?" he asked, casually sliding his hand into his pocket. "Tonks?"

Her face had gone pale. "That was Coop in the Floo," she told him. It sounded as if she didn't believe her own words. "Borgin was found dead in his store."


	19. Polyjuice

**Author's Note: **I'm participating in Nanowrimo this year (there's a link on my profile) & will be dedicating the month of November to that. As such, there will be a longer update time than normal on this story until I reach my deadline. As always, I have written several chapters ahead, so don't think I'm leaving by any means.

* * *

><p><strong>Polyjuice<strong>

"But who would do that?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, Hermione." Their first day back from holiday, and Harry had wasted no time filling in his friends on recent events. He had pulled Hermione and Neville into his dormitory for privacy. Ginny tagged along and, surprisingly, so did Ron although he didn't say anything.

"What does Tonks say?" Ginny asked.

He ran a hand through his hair, thinking back …

_"It's all looking serious," Harry argued. "Not just New Year's Eve, but now one day after you decide to bring Borgin in, he's dead."_

_"I'm not saying we don't have a leak, but I've racked my brain, Harry. No one besides you and my team knew about Borgin." She gave him a dry glance. "Are you selling yourself to Voldemort?"_

_"I figured it was the quickest way to defeat him."_

_"It has to be someone in the department," Tonks said quietly. Her disappointment was palpable. "There's paperwork … someone saw or overheard something. We have to fix this."_

_"What are you going to do if you find the leak?"_

_"A one-way ticket to Azkaban, post-haste."_

_"You don't approve." A statement, not a question. Harry ran a finger around the rim of his mug of chocolate coffee._

_"I think traitors are the scum of the earth. Breaking your word is the worst thing you can do." She took a long sip of her own drink. "Though those that are betrayed do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor stands in worse case of woe."_

_Harry's shoulders tensed. "And what do you suggest, Auror Tonks?"_

_"Auror Tonks says every accused deserves a fair and just trial in a court of law, and, if found guilty, imprisonment," she stated dutifully. "Dora Tonks says a traitor should die a traitor's death."_

_"Hanged, drawn, and quartered? A bit medieval, Dora."_

_That earned a half-smile. "Perhaps not that, but sometimes I reckon the world would be a better place without such people. Peter Pettigrew betrayed your parents, all but killed them himself. Tell me: if you had him here in front of you, what would you do?"_

_Harry stiffened, cold seeping into his bones. "I did. The day I met Sirius. Sirius and Remus were going to kill him, but I didn't want them to become murderers. We were taking him to the dementors. But it was a full moon, and Remus had forgotten his potion. When he transformed, so did Wormtail. He went straight back to Voldemort and did everything he needed to return him to a body, including taking my blood."_

_Pettigrew. It all came back to him, every time. Harry felt his pulse pounding behind his scar. He closed his eyes, curling his fingers. He could see Pettigrew's rat-like face looking up at him, begging for his life, making excuses for killing his friends. Pathetic. And then, a year later, cutting Harry's arm, snivelling at Voldemort's feet. Glancing at Harry like he was nothing. No remorse. None._

_And then he saw Pettigrew at his own feet, begging for mercy once more. Only this time those small, watery eyes bulged as Harry's fingers curled around his throat; the squeaky voice growing hoarser and hoarser, falling to his knees as his face turned blue –_

_"Harry?"_

_He jolted back into the present, staring at the concerned light green eyes of Tonks. He was sweating as if he had finished a marathon, and his forehead ached. When a gentle hand brushed his arm, he jerked it back._

_"Harry, are you okay?"_

_"Fine," he lied. "Sudden headache." This wasn't happening again. Harry would not allow someone else's dreams or feelings to become his own. The consequences had been devastating last time. Sirius had been the one person in the world he would do anything for, and Tonks had taken his place. Harry wouldn't let her follow her cousin._

_She frowned, reaching for him again, but dropped her hand when he continued speaking. "I was thirteen when that happened, and Voldemort was far away in Albania. Now?" He forced away the images still in his mind. "I don't know if I could do it, but I wouldn't stop someone else."_

_Tonks ran a warm hand across his forehead, and he gritted his teeth to keep from flinching when his scar seared. "For what it's worth, you did a good thing. Killing someone, however necessary … well, it changes you forever."_

_A suspicion he'd nursed for a while reared its ugly head. "Tonks," he began hesitantly. "Have you ever …?" He trailed off, unsure how to ask a question like that._

_"Have I ever killed someone? That's what you're asking, innit?" she said harshly. For a minute, Harry thought he'd gone too far, and then she spoke again, in another world._

_"We're not allowed to use Unforgivables, you know that. I had only been qualified for a few months when we were sent to the East End. Coop had been working on this homicide case before I ever came along, and we finally had a lead on our suspect. We went in force. So did the suspect." She paused. "I was supposed to stay with Coop, but we were overwhelmed from the beginning. Divide and conquer. We split up, and before I knew it, I fought my way into a corner. Have you ever known you were outmatched right from the start? Everywhere my wand went, his was there first. And the crazy thing is, it made me angry. Who is this arsehole to try and kill me? He wasn't even the target!"_

_She stopped, taking a long drink. Her knuckles shone white around the black mug. "I cast a curse, a good one. The next thing I know, I'm splattered with blood, and he's on the floor." Her voice was so detached, clinical in her recitation. "Cut his left carotid artery. To this day I can't tell you if that's where I aimed. And here's the kicker – I could have saved him. If I had stopped the bleeding right away, he would have lived. Instead I stood there for a few seconds, watching that flood of red, and then I left. Found Coop and kept by his side until it was over. When I went back, he had bled out. Do you have any idea how much blood is in the human body?"_

_"He would have killed you," Harry said softly._

_"I don't know if I would act differently, given a second chance. Shouldn't I be wrought with guilt? I was sick, but it was just as much the sight as the action," she said as if he hadn't spoken. "DMLE did an investigation, of course, but it was routine. Said I was justified. Alex told me it gets easier the second time. I don't know if I want to find out if he's right."_

_Watching the young witch, every muscle taut, Harry was suddenly very aware of their age difference._

_"I have to kill him," he said without warning, seized by a sudden compulsion to speak. "I have to, and I – I want to."_

_Now she looked at him, and he was startled to see pity in her eyes. He didn't want pity, and not from Tonks of all people. She reached out again, cupping one cheek. "I truly, truly wish you didn't, sweetheart ..."_

Harry shook the memory from his mind. "She says they'll find the person," he answered. "And I almost feel sorry for him when they do. Almost."

"So that's what Mum was so upset about," Ginny mused. "She and Dad wouldn't tell us where they went, of course. It's not as if we've battled Death Eaters ourselves."

"We can't do anything about it from here," Harry said, getting to the real reason he wanted to talk to his friends privately. He pulled a flask out of his bag and held it up. "But with this, we can do something about Malfoy."

"What is that?" asked Neville.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at Hermione, and her eyes widened. "Polyjuice Potion? Tonks gave it to you?"

"She keeps it on hand," he replied evasively.

Ginny took the flask from his hand. "Polyjuice?" she said interestedly. "For what?"

"Malfoy uses Crabbe and Goyle as lookouts. If we're Crabbe and Goyle …"

Ginny looked excited, Neville nervous, and Ron unconvinced, but it was Hermione that poked a hole in his plan. "Harry, that's a good idea, but didn't Malfoy tell them they couldn't go in the room? That's how we learned they were lookouts in the first place."

Harry deflated. He knew that. He leaned forward, thinking hard for several minutes. "Okay. How about this?"

It took half an hour of discussion occasionally bordering on arguing, and once Seamus interrupted to say Lavender was looking for Ron, appearing highly intrigued himself in what they were up to. Finally they had a plan with only about a dozen ways it could go wrong.

"Where's the map, Harry?" asked Ginny, confident. "Maybe we can catch them right now."

Harry shook his head. "No, we aren't ready. We need to know more."

**oOo**

At breakfast the next morning Harry looked up from spreading raspberry jam on his toast and nearly dropped it. Across the room at the Slytherin table in between Millicent Bulstrode and Miles Bletchley was the unmistakable shaved head of 'Never returning to Hogwarts' Eric Rosier.

"Eric?" he blurted out.

Ginny glanced at him. "Lupin's friend? Here?"

"Yeah, he was – I guess he still is – a year ahead of me, but I thought he wasn't coming back," Harry replied absently. Interesting. He'd thought Eric was dead set on staying away. What could have changed in so short a time?

"He's a Slytherin?" Ron asked, frowning.

Dean took an interest. "Who is that?"

"A friend of ours."

"A friend?" the two Weasleys echoed.

Harry shrugged. _For lack of a better word._Curious about the werewolf's unexpected appearance, he kept an eye on him, and as soon as Eric set down his fork, so did Harry.

He met him outside the doors. "Eric? I thought you weren't coming back."

Eric stopped, his shoulders tense, before slowly turning around. "Changed my mind. I'm allowed to do that, aren't I?"

"Sure, but … you seemed pretty set on staying away."

He shrugged. "Didn't have anywhere else to go. I'm not going to depend on bloody Remus Lupin for the rest of my life."

"He's done a lot for you," Harry countered hotly.

"And I don't need anything else from him," Eric retorted. "At least this buys me a few months. Don't even know if I'll complete this term, I'm so behind. Snape said I'll have to double up to make up for what I missed."

Harry brushed at his fringe. Eric was impossible to talk to, a perpetual pessimist determined to look on the bad side no matter what anyone else said. "Yeah, well," he began, unsure of what to say.

"Rosier? You mates with Potter now?"

Theodore Nott, a stringy Slytherin in Harry's year, stood at the bottom of the Great Staircase, smirking. "Go away for a few months and come back a blood traitor."

Harry waited for Eric to respond. In his chronically tense and tortured state, it was altogether too likely he would snap, and Harry wasn't all too sure he'd stop him, if he even could. Theo Nott was the likeliest person to follow Draco Malfoy from Hogwarts to the Death Eaters. Harry had met his father on two notable occasions, although both times the elder Nott was hiding behind a mask.

"What if we are?" Eric said unexpectedly, walking his way until he towered over the weedy younger boy. "Do you have a problem with that?"

To his credit, Theo didn't back down. Instead he brushed past him and headed for the Great Hall. "Not at all. Should be a fun term, Rosier. See you around." He gave Harry a dismissive glance as he passed but didn't deign to speak to him.

Eric watched him until he was gone, his face blank. When the door shut, he gave Harry a nod and began to walk away.

"Eric!" Harry called before he could talk himself out of it. The older boy paused and turned. "Some of us hold a study group Sunday afternoons in the Transfiguration classroom. It's mostly sixth years, but I know Hermione could help you if you need. She was doing N.E.W.T.-level spells last year, and I'm sure she's already read ahead for next year."

"Hermione. She's the Mu– … the girl who was at your girlfriend's house?"

"Yeah."

Eric eyed him for a minute before nodding exactly once more. As Harry started up the stairs to get his bag, he reminded himself to talk to Hermione before Sunday.

**oOo**

On the second day of class, Harry was exiting the portrait hole to head to dinner when someone outside shrieked.

"What – Katie?" he asked confusedly. "Is that you?"

His long-absent Quidditch teammate nodded, looking sheepish. She had lost weight since Harry last saw her, and circles had taken up residence under her dark eyes. "Sorry, Harry. You – you startled me."

He grinned broadly, pleased to see her. "I'm sorry. It's just the portrait hole."

"Yeah, well …" She trailed off, messing with her long hair.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm fine now, I suppose. Healthy as a … something in good health."

"That's great. Ready for Quidditch again? Davies can't match you."

"Oh, sure," she agreed. "I've been looking forward to it."

"You're positive you're up to it? I don't want to push you."

"Harry, I just want everything to go back to normal," she said emphatically.

"Okay then." He gestured. "Want to go to dinner?"

Their walk was mostly quiet. Katie was more withdrawn than he remembered his bubbly friend. Clearly months trying to recover from the Imperius curse had left deeper marks than appeared on the surface. It wasn't until they reached a deserted staircase that he broached the subject.

"Katie, I understand if you don't want to talk about it," he began hesitantly. "But do you remember anything about that day in Hogsmeade?"

She came to such a quick halt that Harry had to backpedal several steps. "I already told the Aurors over and over. I don't remember anything. I was in the Three Broomsticks, opened the door to the loo, and woke up in St. Mungo's. Nothing, okay?"

"I –"

"And I didn't see Draco Malfoy that day at all, if that's what you're after." Harry blinked, and she nodded. "That Auror friend of yours wasn't exactly subtle on that." She bit her lip, rubbing one eye wearily. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to bite your head off. I haven't been sleeping well ever since …"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I don't blame you."

"You don't know what it's like, Harry. A month of my life – gone, just like that. I feel so – dirty, so violated." She crossed her arms, holding them tightly against her body, and Harry was afraid she was going to cry. He hated it when girls cried.

"I'm sure they'll find out who it was soon," he said uncomfortably. "And you know the use of an Unforgivable is a lifetime sentence in Azkaban."

"Yeah." She gave him a wan smile, and suddenly her arms were around him. Harry patted her back awkwardly, waiting for it to be over. "Thank you, Harry. They told me what you did. If you hadn't stopped me, who knows what I would have done."

"Well, you, er, you weren't you."

Katie pulled away, cheeks pink with embarrassment, and they finished their trek in silence. When the doors of the Great Hall were in sight, Harry spoke again.

"If you're not up to playing, I'll understand –"

"Harry. Normal. That's all I want."

Peeves the poltergeist floated through a nearby wall. Spotting the two, he blew a raspberry, flipped upside down, and sang, "Oh Potter you plotter, you cast such a spell, so long since we've seen her, our unwell Miss Bell." Then he swooped down, tweaked Harry's nose, screeched, "GOT YOUR CONK!", and flew away cackling, ignoring Harry's curses.

Katie began laughing, and Harry decided that sometimes Peeves wasn't all bad.

**oOo**

For the next week, they took turns spying on Crabbe and Goyle in pairs. Harry poured over the Marauder's Map constantly, trying to catch them in the act. They discovered that Crabbe and Goyle took Polyjuice to turn into young girls and wandered the corridor outside the Room of Requirement while Malfoy was inside. They always carried something breakable, scales or a glass vial or such, to drop if disturbed, thus informing Malfoy that someone was outside. It appeared that if nothing was heard, Malfoy assumed the coast was clear, as on at least one occasion he startled his lookouts when he slipped out of the room.

By Sunday's study group they had everything in place. Eric hadn't shown up, but Harry was too distracted to ponder it. He tucked the map under his Herbology book, checking it every few minutes.

"You're making me nervous," Hermione muttered.

"I don't want to miss our chance," Harry shot back. "Better sooner than later."

He really meant it. Not only was stopping Malfoy of paramount importance, Katie still fresh in his mind, but he feared the longer they waited, the more problems would occur. His renewed friendship with Ron was tenuous at best, and across the table Neville was visibly sweating.

Harry looked over his essay and groaned. The best type of fertilizer for umbrella flowers was definitely not 'manure of Malfoy', no matter how amusing it sounded. He waved his wand, vanishing his progress, glancing at the map as he did.

He nearly jumped out of his seat. On the seventh floor were the three Slytherin dots he was waiting for, moving with purpose.

"Hermione," he hissed. "Let's go. Tell Neville."

One by one they left the classroom as casually as possible, meeting one floor up. Together they sped up the stairs, ducking behind a tapestry when they reached the seventh floor.

"Everyone knows what to do?" Harry asked, looking at each.

All nodded. Hermione was resigned, Ginny excited, Neville nervous, Ron unsure, and Luna … well, she was simply Luna. A year ago, Harry would hardly have considered this a crack team, but after the Department of Mysteries, he'd attempt anywhere with them.

"Let's go, then."

Harry, Hermione, and Ginny pressed against each other under the invisibility cloak. It was a tight squeeze, and he had his doubts as to whether they could move without revealing their feet. No time to reconsider.

Ron held the map. "Malfoy's gone."

Bit by bit the hidden trio crept down the corridor. After two corners, they came upon two young girls loitering near a bare stretch of wall. Each clutched a vial as they wandered the length of the corridor.

Harry and Ginny pointed their wands. "_Stupefy,_" he heard her whisper.

Crabbe and Goyle, still in their adopted forms, slumped to the ground. Only Hermione's quick wand-work saved the vials from crashing, freezing them in mid-air.

"Is that wormwood essence?" she asked interestedly, turning over a vial in her hand while Ginny went to get the others. "Where did they get that? We haven't used it in Potions yet, but I know it –"

Harry rifled through their robes, feeling like a creep given that they were two barely pubescent girls. "Hermione? Later?"

"Oh, right."

"Here they are!" he announced, holding up two flasks just as the others came into view. He handed one each to Ginny and Luna. "Let's take care of these two, quickly." Ron and Neville levitated the bodies of Crabbe and Goyle next to the wall, and Hermione collected a hair from each before Harry cast disillusionment charms, tucking them securely in her robes next to their own Polyjuice potion, ready for their back-up plan.

With a grimace Ginny took a gulp from her flask, and Luna followed suit. Harry watched, remembering his own experience as the girls dropped to their knees, their skin growing mottled before returning to normal, both shrinking. It only took a few seconds for two more replicas of the girls Crabbe and Goyle had been imitating to stand in front of them.

"That was horrible," Ginny said in a high-pitched voice, now a petite blonde. "I can't believe Barty Crouch did that for a year."

"It's likely he never transformed back but took the potion regularly," Hermione commented, waving her wand as she made their clothing shrink to proper sizes.

"It could use an infusion of gulping plimpies to improve the taste," Luna said, a gangly dark-skinned girl. Despite a squeaky pitch, her voice still carried a distinctive aura of dreaminess. "I don't believe they would affect the potion itself."

"Nor do I, since they aren't real," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"We should go," Harry said once they had picked up their vials. "Hopefully I'll see you soon."

Now for the worst part of any plan: waiting. Harry, Neville, and Ron retreated to their hiding spot, passing the map amongst themselves and watching for a certain name to appear. Hermione, under the invisibility cloak, lingered where they knew the door to be, awaiting its opening. Harry deeply hoped it would be soon; the longer it took, the more complacent the group would become and the higher a chance for problems.

Two hours passed. The boys yawned, rubbed their eyes, and stared at the map until everything ran together. Ginny and Luna could be seen wandering, Hermione rarely, and the occasional random student passed by. He imagined the vials of wormwood essence breaking and being repaired, over and over.

On one of his turns with the map, Harry spotted the dot labeled 'N. Tonks' patrolling down the Transfiguration corridor. Was she looking for him or merely making her rounds? He felt a pang of guilt for leaving her in the dark, but he convinced himself it was better this way. Tonks was hardly Percy Weasley, but he'd learned there was a big difference between the schoolgirl sneaking out of her common room to smoke and the grown Auror trying to solve a case.

"Harry," Neville said suddenly. "He's there."

Harry wasted no time, all but running down the corridor. He forced himself to stop before rounding the last corner, allowing his breathing to calm and appearing as if he was merely out for a stroll.

He turned the corner to face Draco Malfoy, accompanied by two scared-looking young girls.

"Malfoy," he said conversationally, continuing on his path.

The Christmas holidays had not been good for him, it appeared. He was as pale and sickly-looking as ever, sweaty and his normally slick hair disorderly. "Potter," he returned, narrowing his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Gryffindor common room is this way. Why are you so far from the dungeons?"

"On my way back from the Astronomy Tower," Malfoy muttered. "Thought I left my star chart there."

It was a weak lie, and both knew it. Harry didn't press the issue; he had more important things to do. "They're a bit young for you, aren't they?" he said, pointing at Ginny and Luna. "Parkinson finally get tired of stroking your ego – I mean, hair?"

Malfoy flushed. As he'd hoped, Harry had forced his hand. "They're not with me," he all but snarled, turning around. "Leave me alone! I don't know how to get to the Muggle Studies classroom from here. Why would I take a pointless class like that?"

"But you –" Ginny began, and Harry wanted to hug her. Perfect for slow-witted Vincent Crabbe.

"I said I don't know," Malfoy repeated with a hard look.

And with no choice, he stalked off toward the Grand Staircase, those he thought his best friends wandering in the opposite direction, playing the part of two lost first-years perfectly. Harry kept on his path, desperately hoping Hermione had gotten inside. He forced himself to keep walking for five long minutes before doubling back. All save Hermione waited for him.

"Is it –"

Ron cut him off. "Malfoy's gone. We watched him all the way to the first floor."

"And did –"

The other Weasley this time. "Yes. Luna grabbed the door when it opened like she was trying to help, and Hermione must have slipped in then. He didn't suspect a thing."

Harry frowned, remembering the last time he'd attempted to follow Malfoy under the invisibility cloak. "Let's give her the signal and go in. Someone needs to stay out here, just in case he returns."

"I'll do it," Neville volunteered.

Leaving Neville with the map, the rest crowded around the door, and Ginny dropped her vial. A moment later, a door appeared in the blank wall, and Hermione's head peered out.

"You're not going to like this, Harry."

Despite the warning, Harry's pulse quickened with excitement as he crowded behind Luna. Months of pondering, of scheming, and he was finally going to see what Draco Malfoy's task from the Dark Lord was. Was it a weapon, was it –

He came to a complete stop. _Bloody hell._

He could search for days and not discover what Malfoy was doing. The room was huge, massive, cavernous even. And it was completely full. Shelves and furniture and just pure junk. He saw broken desks, limp brooms, books missing covers, crumpled pieces of parchment, Screaming Yo-Yos in pieces, lone shoes, torn robes, and countless other objects.

"What is this place?" Ginny asked.

"A storeroom," Hermione guessed.

"A giant rubbish bin," said Ron.

Luna smiled. "A place to hide things."

"Are you sure this is it, Hermione?" Harry asked. He didn't even know where to start looking.

She nodded. "I slipped in when he came out. This has to be the same room."

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

Harry returned to the corridor, startling Neville. He waited until the door melted into the wall, then paced back and forth three times. _I need the room where Malfoy hides, I need the room where Malfoy hides._ Nothing._ I need a room to store broken items. I need a room to store broken items._ Again, blank while. Suppressing frustration, he remembered Luna's knowing smile. Why not? _I need a place to hide something. I need a place to hide something._

A door appeared.

"Is that it, Harry? Did you figure it out?" Neville asked anxiously.

"I'm about to find out."

Trepidation rising again, he opened the door to find … the same room. The exact same room Hermione had entered when Malfoy departed, which meant the same room that Malfoy was working in. This was it. They had done it.

"Harry?" Ginny appeared from behind a bookcase. "Where did you go?"

"Outside." He grinned triumphantly. "And then back in."

"Wait, you mean you figured it out? You can get in on your own?" She lit up. "Brilliant!"

"Now if you can learn legilimancy and read Malfoy's mind, we might have a chance of finding out what he's actually doing," Ron's voice sounded from behind Harry, sour. "Or we can stay in here until we take our N.E.W.T.s."

"Ron, you don't have to be here." Harry didn't bother turning around or moderating the tone of his voice. He was pleased to be back on speaking terms, but at the same time he wasn't going to baby him.

"I'm just pointing out the obvious," Ron returned.

Harry whirled around, an angry rejoinder dying on his lips. Ginny had her wand out, and Ron flinched. He _flinched._ Harry felt like a monster. Was his temper that horrible that even his friends were afraid of him? He recalled the – dream, vision, hallucination, whatever – he'd had about Peter Pettigrew, and his scar burned. Were his repeated encounters with danger, death, and dark wizards finally taking a toll on him? _We all have good and bad inside us_, Sirius had told him, and Harry was no different from anyone else, at least in that regard.

"You're right," he said with a forced smile, and neither Weasley was able to hide their surprise. "I'm going to look around for a while."

He picked an aisle at random and set off, pushing away the last bits of self-doubt and frustration with Ron. As he walked, he began to realize Ron might have been right. Unless he found a neon sign proclaiming, 'Malfoy's weapon here,' he was looking for a needle in a haystack. Cracked nose-biting teacups, torn portraits, even non-human skeletons … nothing jumped out at him except a half-hearted Fanged Frisbee.

"I found something!" Luna cried from somewhere ahead of him.

Harry perked up, dashing this way and that, following her and the others' voices to their source. He arrived at the same time as Hermione. Luna pointed to something high on a shelf.

"It's the lost diadem of Ravenclaw!" she said excitedly.

"The what?"

"The lost diadem of Ravenclaw," she repeated. "It's charmed to enhance the wisdom of the wearer. It hasn't been seen since Rowena Ravenclaw died!"

Harry looked up skeptically. He couldn't see it well, but it just looked like an old tarnished tiara with bits of cobweb stuck to it. Hardly a supposedly famous relic.

Hermione voiced his doubts. "Why would Rowena Ravenclaw leave something so valuable in here? I know she was the architect of Hogwarts, but if it's been here for centuries, how come no one has found it?"

"I don't have an answer," Luna replied simply, not taking her protuberant eyes off the diadem. "But I'm sure I recognize it. There's a replica in the Ravenclaw common room, and Daddy's studied it for years. He's trying to recreate it."

"That's nice, Luna, but it's probably not related to what Malfoy's doing," Harry said.

"No, probably not," she agreed. She raised her wand. "_Accio _diadem!" It didn't move. "Curious."

Harry found it rather curious, too, but he didn't dwell on it. Tugging Hermione with him, he walked away.

"What are we looking for, Harry?" she asked when they were out of earshot of the others.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this." He waved his hand at the surrounding chaos, currently composed of some large object with a sheet draped over it, a dusty mannequin missing an arm, and a forlorn broomstick.

"We can't stay in here forever."

"No. Let's … let's go. We know how to get in now, and we have Polyjuice. If we can get inside while Malfoy is here as Crabbe or Goyle, we can see what he's doing." As he spoke, Harry remembered that exact problem with their original plan, but he was too close to stop now.

They gathered the others and left. Hermione suggested they make sure they could return to the room without anyone inside, so each tried several variations of 'a place to hide.' It was Neville that discovered they had to ask for a room to hide things, not people. Finally confident they could return whenever they wanted, the group returned to Gryffindor Tower (Ravenclaw for Luna, of course).

They had just settled in the common room when Ginny suddenly laughed.

"What?" Ron asked.

"We forgot Crabbe and Goyle."


	20. Horcrux

**Author's Note: **I'm back! I hit my 50,000 words for Nanowrimo on Sunday. My novel is nowhere near finished, but it's off to a good start. It was an interesting experience. Getting back into fanfiction & the world of HP should also prove to be interesting, as I've been so totally immersed in a different world for weeks.

Also, to my American readers - Have a happy Thanksgiving!

* * *

><p><strong>Horcrux<strong>

"How is it that you can piss me off more than anyone else I know?" Tonks demanded.

"Uniquely talented?" Harry suggested.

The corners of her mouth twitched, but her glare didn't lessen. "You stole from me!"

"I was going to give it back."

"After you used it?"

"I could make more." She raised her eyebrows. "I did in my second year."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Technically, Hermione did. And that's illegal, by the way, as is you and your friends using it no matter who made it."

"So why don't you arrest Malfoy for using it?" Harry sprang to his feet, pacing restlessly.

"Because I have no proof!" she retorted, running a hand through her hair in an exasperated motion. Harry wanted to point out that it was now sticking straight up but thought better of it. "How many times do I have to tell you, Harry? I have to have legitimate proof gathered through legal means to obtain an arrest. I cannot use your word, no matter how much I believe it."

"So go see for yourself."

"I intend to, but even you said it was full of junk. You figure _Accio _Malfoy's shit will work?"

It was so similar to what Harry had thought that he had to laugh. "No, probably not. Come on, Dora, I had to do something. If we don't stop him soon, it'll be too late."

"You think I don't know that?" Tonks glared at him a moment longer, then, moving so fast her barely saw her wand, she shot a spell so close to his feet he had to jump in the air.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"That's why – we're here – isn't it?" Tonks waved a hand around the Room of Requirement, firing another spell at him with every other word. "You wanted – to learn. You have – five seconds – to fight – back."

The following hour was by far the most punishing session yet. Tonks seemed to spare only those curses which would do him true bodily harm, using some he'd never seen before. She was relentless, everywhere at once, and Harry's own ire began to rise. They fought for every square centimeter of the sizable room, pausing only to lift a stunner when one or the other went down. Had the room not been magically protected, it would have been left in shambles. Tonks only called a stop when they met in a draw, their spells meeting in the middle and sending both flying backward.

"Enough, enough!" she called before Harry launched himself to his feet, ready to return fire. "Stop. We're done."

He let his head fall back onto the mat with a muffled thud. He felt like he'd ran a dozen laps around the Quidditch pitch with bludgers striking him the entire time. "Are you that angry with me?" he said to the ceiling.

"Angry?" From the distant sound of her voice, she was in the same position as him. "No. Why?"

"So you just attacked me for no reason?"

"Attacked you?" Her voice began to move closer. "Isn't that why we're here? To train?"

"Yeah, but …" He rolled onto his side. Tonks, sideways in his vision, was approaching him. "We were arguing, and then …"

"No, babe. Yes, we were arguing, and yes, I was – am – irritated with you, but I didn't start dueling because of that. I began dueling because that is the reason we come here. If that mess on New Year's taught me anything, it's that he's not giving up on you, and I'll be buggered if I don't do all I can to help you smite the bastard."

_She cares_, was Harry's first touched thought. His second was, "Did you just say smite?"

"I thought it sounded more exciting than defeat. No?" She shrugged. "Oh well. Anyway, from now on, we're going to take this seriously. Be prepared as soon as you walk in the door."

"I can do that. I've been holding back for fear of hurting you, but now …"

"I'm terrified," she replied dryly. "Truly? I'd love to see you give it your all. You're strongest when you're angry, but you're also sloppy. Find a way to discipline your anger, and I'll be no match."

Find a way to discipline his anger. He'd been trying ever since he lost it on Ron. Easier said than done. Lately, Harry felt a different person altogether when his temper was woken.

Tonks yawned. "Let's go, babe. It's late."

"So you're not going to look at the room Malfoy's been working in?"

"Are you taking the piss? Of course I am. I've been waiting all night. You know how hard it is for me to restrain my curiosity."

Harry laughed, holding his hands up. "Help me off this floor, and I'll help you back into the room."

Tonks stood over him, arms crossed, before grinning and extending her hands. He grasped them, and she yanked – but not as hard as Harry. With a startled shout, Tonks toppled on top of him and he clenched her waist, silencing her protests with his lips. It had only been a week, but that was too long without citrus scents and cherry kisses.

"Mmm … this isn't why we're here, babe," she murmured.

"It's the Room of Requirement," he countered, attempting to hold on as she wriggled out of his grasp. "I require you."

"You require me?" she challenged, dancing away from his reach with raised eyebrows.

Harry gulped. _Wrong word. _"I mean, I want you."

"I know. It's all part of my master plan."

"You have a master plan?" he teased.

She tossed her head, long turquoise locks flying. "Of course. I seduce you, and then I achieve world domination."

"What happens in between the seduction and the world domination?"

"Uh … I'll figure that out later. I work better on the fly. Drives Mad-Eye crazy."

"I think Mad-Eye was crazy long before you came along."

Tonks laughed, throwing her arm over Harry's shoulders. "That, my dear sweet Harry, is entirely possible."

Harry enjoyed the affection, but as she steered him for the door, he pulled her to a halt. "What's the rush, Dora? We haven't been together since I left your parents' house."

She twisted her neck so that his kiss landed on her cheek. "A week isn't that long, babe. You're chasing me like a starving puppy."

"I missed you."

She started out with a laugh and ended in a sigh. "Just … slow down, alright?"

"Slow down? Oh, that's rich. It must have me tearing my own clothes off in your bedroom," he said sarcastically, trying to mask his hurt. She couldn't get enough of him over the break, and now she wanted to backtrack?

Tonks flushed. "That was fun, but I don't want to push you into anything. Seeing you around here in that uniform again – I forgot you're sixteen."

_Not this again._ "Does that matter? You're not pushing me at all, except for our training." He pulled her chin toward him. "If the uniform bothers you, I'll gladly take it off for you."

She cracked a grin, but it didn't reach her eyes, her natural gray as they searched his. Something like anxiety swirled in them, but then she closed her eyes and kissed his mouth, and there was nothing anxious about that. He pulled her willing body flush against his, marveling at how well they fit together as their lips tangled.

She broke away all too soon, but her hand remained entwined with his. "Let's go, babe. As lovely as kissing you is, we have other things to take care of."

When the Room of Requirement sealed behind them, Harry gazed at the blank wall. "I need to find a room to hide things in. That works best."

"What if it doesn't work?"

"We all tried it. Give it a go, you'll see."

Frowning in concentration, Tonks paced back and forth three times, the door appearing on her last trip. Smirking triumphantly, Harry held the door open and gestured for her to proceed.

"Whoa."

Harry thought her response accurate. The sheer overwhelming scope of the room hit him once again. How were they ever going to find what they sought? Even if they knew exactly what they were looking for, it would take months, even years to sort through everything.

Tonks looked left. Tonks looked right. Tonks looked up. Tonks looked at Harry with an accusing expression. "And you said this would be difficult."

Harry laughed. "Okay, master detective, go ahead."

One finger on her chin, Tonks surveyed the room once more before cracking her knuckles and setting off in a purposeful stride. He followed, startled. Had she actually seen something? She made two decisive turns, leading them to the middle of the room before she stopped.

"Do you actually know what you're doing?" he asked.

"No," she admitted with a shrug. "But I do a good job of acting like it, don't I?"

"Great, but it doesn't help us any."

She wrinkled her nose. "You're such a spoilsport."

"I'm being realistic." He turned in a slow circle. "I knew if I could just get in here, I could figure it out. I never imagined anything like this. We're so bloody close but yet not at all."

"Hey." Two arms snaked across his chest, and a warm body pressed against his back. "You did well. I may not approve of your methods, but you did get in here. Somewhere in this room is the key to Malfoy's task from Voldemort."

"But where? And how do we find it?"

Tonks blew out her breath in a slow, deliberate manner and began to walk. Her meandering steps indicated less of a destination and more of a need to move that Harry knew to associate with the Auror when she was pondering a problem. He followed her path, attempting to come up with his own idea, but all faltered after a beginning that consisted more or less of 'What if …' and then nothing.

She spun around, startling him and continuing to walk, albeit backward. "How's this? We've known since the beginning that there's supposed to be something related to the task in Borgin and Burkes. Remember after we raided it, we closed it down and started to do an inventory."

"Have they found something?" Harry interrupted.

"No-o. We could only hold the store so long as we held the owner. Once he was released, it was out of our hands. Since Borgin was found dead in his flat above the shop, we've seized it again. I'll get Cooper to complete the inventory and send me a copy, maybe swing by there myself if I can make an escape."

"And then what?" he said skeptically. "Compare the list with what's in here?"

"Well … yeah." She scowled, wrinkling her nose. "I hope you're good at summoning charms. I know it's a terrible idea, but it's all I have at the moment."

"I think the key is to get inside while Malfoy is. I could Polyjuice as Goyle and –"

"Quit with the Polyjuice. And give mine back before I have to requisition more from the Quartermaster. I have to account for its use, you know, and I doubt Svensson will accept 'My teenage boyfriend stole it and is running amok at Hogwarts' as a viable excuse. He gave me enough grief last time because he didn't believe I broke the bottle and spilled it all over my kitchen table."

Harry pushed his glasses up, face still sweaty from the night's exercise. Even though she shot him down, he was all warm inside. It was the first time she had called him that. "Okay, what if you morphed to look like Crabbe and –"

She stopped walking, adopting a look of appall. "Are you mad? Do you want me to get the sack? Do you know what they would do if they found out I was impersonating a sixteen-year-old?"

"No, I …" Harry released a frustrated breath. So close, so far. Tonks watched him with bright eyes, and he forced a smile for her benefit. "Never mind. He doesn't let them inside the Room anyway."

"We'll figure it out." She held out her hand, and he accepted.

They began walking aimlessly. He still marveled at what could be found in here. Tonks tossed a nose-biting teacup at him that didn't even graze the skin, and he gave her a wry smile.

"You could sneak in here. What's the point of having a girlfriend that's a Metamorphmagus if I can't use it to my advantage?"

Those eyes sparkled with wicked intent. "Babe, someday I'll show you exactly how advantageous it can be."

"You will?" Harry swallowed. They'd seen each other in their underwear, and she still made him nervous.

"Oh, you bet." Her grin widened, and she approached him. "I can give you a preview now, if you'd like."

He took a step backward, trapped between the oncoming woman and some old wardrobe. "You can?"

"Mm-hmm." Deft fingers unbuckled his belt, slipping beneath the waistband of his trousers. "I'm going to make you feel very good, Harry."

"You are? … Ohhh..."

**oOo**

Later, as they approached the Fat Lady, Harry wished his tongue would unfreeze. Every time he tried to say something, he stammered and turned bright red. He had liked it, Merlin knew, and he wasn't opposed to a recurrence, but what does one say after? And then she'd taken his hand … Harry would never be able to look at her long fingers again without flushing.

"Harry …" He could sense her amusement. "Are you ever going to look me in the eye?"

He coughed. "Of course."

"In this century?"

"Perhaps."

She laughed with no care for keeping her voice down, and he quickly checked the map to make sure they were alone. "I don't see what the big deal is. It was good, right?"

"Bloody brilliant," he blurted out.

She laughed again. "So what's wrong? I didn't do anything I didn't want. You enjoyed it, I enjoyed it. All is well."

"You enjoyed it? I didn't, ah …"

"You don't need to. All in good time." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and sighed. "Hold on, stop. Listen, sweetheart, if you care about your partner, you can get nearly as much enjoyment out of his or her pleasure as you do your own, particularly when it moves from tonight's one-woman show to a more mutual activity. Okay? You shouldn't be embarrassed at all, but if it bothers you that much, I can promise I'll never do it again …"

He quickly corrected her. "No, no need for that." She grinned smugly, and Harry realized he'd taken her bait.

"If you'd like, I –"

Carelessly glancing at the map, Harry saw with alarm the dot labeled 'Charity Burbage', the Muggle Studies professor, just around the corner. With no door nearby, he yanked the invisibility cloak over his head and pushed Tonks against the wall, enveloping her in the cloak as well and holding a hand over her mouth to prevent a shout of surprise.

She struggled, but when the light of Professor Burbage's wand came into view, she stopped in understanding, and Harry lowered his hand. There they stood in absolute silence, still as statues, until the teacher was directly even with them. And then Tonks bent her head to his neck, pressing her lips against it oh-so-lightly and licking, of all things, with her tongue.

It was all he could do not to groan. Was she completely insane? Harry could not begin to imagine the look on McGonagall's face if he landed in her office because of this situation. He was certain this would flap the normally unflappable witch, if that was even a verb.

Finally the professor's light disappeared in the distance, and Harry shot away from Tonks like a bottle rocket. "Are you mad?"

She smirked. "Yes. And you love it."

**oOo**

"Harry!"

Harry turned around, groaning as Romilda Vane approached him after Friday's Transfiguration lesson. Lavender and Ron sniggered. He forced a smile. "Hi, Romilda. How are you?"

Was it his imagination, or did she always throw back her shoulders when he was near? "I'm fantastic, now." The implication was obvious as she sidled up to him. "And you?"

"I'm okay. What do you need?"

Her smile disappeared. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you this," she said coldly, thrusting a folded piece of parchment forward before flouncing away.

"Blimey, Harry, you don't mince words, do you?" Seamus commented, watching the fifth-year leave.

Harry shrugged. "I don't think she's one to pick up on subtle hints."

"What does Dumbledore want?" Dean asked.

"No idea." Harry tucked the parchment into his pocket to read privately later. Was this what he'd been waiting for since their last aborted meeting, or was it another chiding?

He opened the note under the cover of a self-fertilizing shrub in Herbology.

_Harry – _

_Please join me in my office Saturday night at eight o'clock to resume our lessons. I favor Ice Mice this time of year._

**oOo**

Harry tried to hold Quidditch practice on the second Saturday of term, but one look outside the window of Gryffindor Tower showed a dreary sky complete with winds that cut to the bone. So after breakfast the Gyrffindor Quidditch team huddled in their locker room. Harry was well pleased to have Katie back; he was less enthusiastic about the other new face.

With Ron's refusal to rejoin the team, he had no choice but to turn to the second-best Keeper at the tryouts: Cormac MacLaggen. The brawny seventh-year strutted into the locker room like he owned it, and by the time Harry finished discussing the strategy for their match against Hufflepuff in March, he was holding onto his temper by a single thread. It was obvious to all that MacLaggen not only thought he knew everything there was to know about Quidditch, he also believed he'd be a better captain.

"OI!" Harry finally bellowed when MacLaggen interrupted to directly disagree with his advice to Ritchie about directing bludgers. "I'm talking here!"

"I can't help it if you're wrong," MacLaggen retorted.

"I'm not –" Harry moderated his voice. "I'm the captain, and I'll decide the strategy. Okay?"

He shrugged, a stubborn look on his face, and Harry turned back to the rest of his team, hoping it was admiration he saw in Katie's eyes and not wariness.

When the meeting broke up, he hailed MacLaggen at the door. "Cormac! Hold on."

The elder boy turned with a dismissive smirk. "What now, Potter?"

Harry stepped closer. "If you have a suggestion, that's great, but come to me. Don't interrupt me in front of everyone. I'm captain, and it's my team. If you try to take over one more time, I'll play Keeper myself before I let you back on the team. Got it?"

He scoffed. "What are you going to do? Hex me like you did Weasley?"

Harry stepped back, angered, but it was Ginny who answered. "No, but I will."

A few seconds later, the two of them plus Dean stood in the doorway, laughing and watching MacLaggen run back to the castle, flying bogies all around his head.

"We may have just lost our Keeper," Ginny remarked.

Harry laughed. "It was worth it to see this." When Dean went to grab his coat, Harry stepped closer to Ginny. "Ginny, I never apologized to you for –"

She cut him off, holding up one hand. "Don't worry about it."

"No, I really want to –"

"Harry, it's fine. Drop it or you'll be next." She nodded to where MacLaggen had disappeared in the distance.

"Duly noted."

**oOo**

The meeting began as most others had. Harry gave the password at the appointed hour, climbed the spiral stairs, and opened the door at Dumbledore's welcome to a genial smile and twinkling blue eyes.

"How was your holiday, Harry?"

"Fine, sir," he replied, taking a seat across the desk. Curious as he was, he would allow Dumbledore to take the lead. For the moment.

"And your extracurricular activities with Miss Tonks?"

Harry stared in consternation. Even if she wasn't a twenty-two-year-old Auror, he certainly had no intention of discussing his love life with any professor, much less the Headmaster.

"She is a trained Auror, Harry, one with whom you have an established friendship. A valuable teacher, if young. I have no objections against preparing yourself to fight the coming battles; in truth, I would be very disappointed if you did not. I trust you are not breaking any school rules in doing so, for of course I do not condone that."

"Of course not, sir." This direct approach earned Harry's attention.

"Very good. The reason I asked you here is to continue our thwarted conversation from December. The time has come to discuss exactly what you face in Tom Riddle."

Excitement stirred in Harry's belly even as he frowned. "Why didn't you tell me this when you told me the prophecy? You said you would be honest with me, that you would tell me everything you –"

"– know," Dumbledore finished. "And so I did. I told you precisely what I knew to be true. At the time I had mere suspicions as to what I am about the share. Engaging in guesswork, while necessary, carries risks. Thoughts become clouded and murky. I had hoped to finish my research before revealing all to you, but I fear we are running out of time."

Harry gestured, unease replacing his excitement. "Your hand?"

He smiled, shaking the end of his sleeve over his blackened fingers. "One story at a time, Harry. Now, you may have noticed my recurring absence from Hogwarts since the beginning of term."

"Sir, I think the only one who hasn't noticed is the giant squid."

His eyes twinkled. "Perhaps so. I have been searching for evidence of what I am now certain is the key to defeating Tom."

Harry sat up straighter. This was it, what he'd been waiting for since Dumbledore first mentioned private lessons all those months ago.

"He has created something called a Horcrux."

Though the Headmaster's tone was grave, Harry was about as impressed as if he had been told Voldemort created a loose leaf notebook. "Er, sorry, but I don't know what that is."

Dumbledore smiled again, but there was something grim underneath it. "I would be shocked if you did. You will not find mention of a Horcrux in your Defense Against the Dark Arts text, nor any book you can find in Hogwarts. A Horcrux is, in its simplest form, a vessel that contains a portion of a person's soul."

Understanding still wasn't forthcoming. "A piece of a soul? What – how?"

"There is a ritual involving murder. The act of murder, not of killing but of murder, is such a despicable act that it rips the soul in two. A most skilled and most determined wizard can store the piece of soul in a vessel separate from his person. It one of the deepest of the Dark Arts one can learn."

Now Harry was taken aback. You could tear your soul in two? And why would you want to? "So Voldemort put part of his soul into – what? What can a Horcrux be?"

"Rather like a Portkey, it can be anything you want." He waved his hand at a bookshelf holding a variety of curios.

"Can it be reversed? Can he put his soul back into his body?"

"Part of his soul, not his entire soul. One part will always reside in his body. While I do not believe he can merge a Horcrux with his body, he can use one to bring him back to life. As far as I know, only two people in this world have witnessed that process." He folded his hands, waiting.

It didn't take long. "The graveyard," Harry realized. "After the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. That's how he came back. He had a piece of his soul hidden away all those years. That's why he didn't die when the curse rebounded. That's … he can't die." The enormity of the situation, the worry behind the lines of Dumbledore's aged face, finally struck home.

"He can die, Harry. No man is immortal. But, yes, a Horcrux will tether him to life even if his body is destroyed."

Harry stared unseeing at Dumbledore's desk. An already impossible situation now looked even worse.

"However, destroy the Horcrux, and he is susceptible to death like any other," Dumbledore continued.

Harry had a thousand questions, but he needed time to process it all. Only one thing was clear. "That's what we'll do, then."

The Headmaster took a moment to reply, gazing at Harry with some odd emotion he couldn't identify in this clear blue eyes.

"Yes, Harry. That is what we are going to do."

**oOo**

Auror Lesley Cooper stood in the middle of Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley and sighed. Tonks was asking a lot, and she knew it. But that didn't stop her; it never had. _Of course, if you'd stop doing it_, he scolded himself even as he knew it was pointless.

He had to give them credit. Tonks was stubborn to the core, and it appeared she'd met her match in Harry Potter. Between the two of them, they'd suss out what Draco Malfoy was doing out of pure tenacity. Tonks seemed to have met her match in Harry Potter in a variety of ways, but Cooper preferred not to dwell on that.

Not much had changed since the first time they had seized the shop. Some boxes moved around in the storeroom, perhaps. Certainly nothing to indicate his inclusion in a nefarious plot with You-Know-Who or his inner circle, but that didn't mean anything. The best Death Eaters were those one would least expect.

Cooper thought back to the scene a few weeks ago in the upstairs flat. Borgin, flat on his back on the floor of his bedroom, eyes vacant and staring, not a scratch on his body. It was a sight veteran Aurors were familiar with and one those that had joined in the last decade were becoming used to. No one disagreed that _Avada Kedavra _was the cause; no other spell simply stopped the heart like that, and poisons left traces. What was less clear was the spellcaster.

If Cooper hadn't already been convinced of his involvement with You-Know-Who (_Tonks wants you to say his name, you berk_), he would be now. Dead less than twenty-four hours after a warrant was issued for Borgin to be brought in for questioning under new, looser guidelines. Cooper didn't enjoy the act of interrogating, but he knew he was good at it, blessed with the capability of removing himself from the situation and pushing off the unpleasantness. He knew he would have gotten all the answers out of the old man.

However, what Cooper considered to be proof did not sway other members of the department. Some senior members, tired of jumpy junior Aurors seeing V-Voldemort (_there, that's not so bad, I'll have to make sure to tell her_) behind every shadow, dismissed it as coincidence. He was an old man who had run a Dark Arts shop for decades. He was bound to have enemies. Or perhaps he was messing with some new artefact he didn't fully understand. Others, remnants of Fudge's willfully oblivious reign, believed the same, except their reasoning was that Voldemort couldn't possibly have that much reach into the Ministry.

Sometimes, Cooper reflected glumly, he had to agree with what Tonks had whispered during her very first office-wide meeting: What a load of dunderheads.

He leaned against the wall at the thought of his pink-haired protégé. Merlin, he missed her. He missed the way she chewed on her lower lip when she concentrated, the sheen of the lip balm she favored, the coffee and bagels she brought him every morning, how she sat on his desk when she briefed him and always knocked something off. He missed … _You missed that she's not yours to miss, mate._

He shook his head, shaggy hair flying. Never mind that. He had a job to do. Do it correctly, and he would help Tonks and Harry. Tonks was Tonks, and as much as he didn't want to, he quite liked Harry.

So – finish the inventory of the shop. Easier said than done. Borgin had junk stashed everywhere, and if he was hiding something for Voldemort, common sense told him it wouldn't be waiting in plain sight. Cooper knew her plan would require a stroke of pure luck, but he'd been taught to always do something, and they had wasted enough time. Luck held only the possibility of failure; doing nothing ensured it.

He grabbed the roll of parchment and headed to the front. Though the inventory was partially complete, he wanted to go over it from the start. When it came to an investigation, he was nothing if not methodical.

As he passed by a large cabinet, he paused. Something strange had happened with that cabinet, something none of them had been able to decipher. He had heard a noise, and there on the bottom of the previously empty human-sized cabinet was a half-eaten green apple. On a hunch he opened the cabinet again. And then he stared.

No fruit was to be seen. Instead, he gazed at a small, dead bird.


	21. Valentine's

**Valentine's**

Apparition lessons for the sixth years started on the first of February. By now familiar with side-along apparition thanks to Tonks, Harry felt a bit more confident than most when he walked into the Great Hall that chilly Saturday morning.

When they left an hour later, his mood wasn't so cheery, and he joined in with the others in grumbling about their instructor, a tiny, wispy old man named Wilkie Twycross. Not one single student had managed to apparate.

"Would it kill him to provide us with another D?" Michael Corner complained. "Perhaps some actual _direction_."

"Maybe some _discussion_ as to exactly how one apparates," Justin Finch-Fletchley added.

"I think it's fascinating," said Hermione. "It's all about your power of mind, isn't it? No incantations or wand movements."

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in apparition lessons," Ron intoned in a deep, deliberate voice, such a clear imitation of Snape that several students jumped and looked around before joining in the laughter.

"Harry."

He barely heard his name, low under the laughter, and spun to see Neville dropping behind the crowd. Harry slowed to let him catch up. "What's up?"

"Did you see Malfoy wasn't there?" Neville said, barely above a whisper.

Harry thought quickly. He hadn't noticed the silver-blond head, but then he hadn't been looking for it. Now that he thought about it, the lessons weren't mandatory; like a Quidditch match or Hogsmeade weekend, it was the perfect time for Malfoy to escape to the Room of Requirement.

"What are we going to do if we can't figure out what his job is?" Neville asked.

Harry shook his head. He had no answer to that question, only the encroaching sense that time was slipping away like sand in an hourglass.

**oOo**

Harry had had exactly one date before Tonks came along. He'd taken Cho Chang to Madam Puddifoot's in Hogsmeade (according to Cho, the place all the couples went) on Valentine's Day last year. It was an unqualified disaster. After watching Roger Davies snog his girlfriend at the next table, he and Cho ended up having a huge row, and she stormed out.

Harry was determined not to have a repeat. Hogsmeade visits were still canceled after the incident with Katie and the necklace, but they wouldn't have been able to meet up anyway. So not only was Harry faced with the task of trying to create a successful Valentine's Day for his girlfriend, he had to do it in Hogwarts without others knowing.

"Ron, what are you giving Lavender for Valentine's Day?" Harry asked, shooting a glance at the staircase from the armchair near the fireplace where they waited for Ron's girlfriend before breakfast.

Ron went wide-eyed. "Am I supposed to get her something? Bloody hell, I hope she doesn't try to give me another necklace. I can't claim the ghoul stole this one, too. Hermione?"

Hermione didn't look up from her Ancient Runes textbook. "Yes, Ronald, she expects a gift, even though Valentine's Day as we know it is merely a corporation-created marketing scheme that bears little resemblance to the actual Saint Valentine."

Ron blinked. "So … candy?" he said after a long pause.

She didn't bother to respond.

Candy might work for Lavender, but Tonks was a bird of a different color. Over the years Harry had seen Uncle Vernon give Aunt Petunia chocolates (that he and Dudley then proceeded to eat, ignoring Harry), flowers, perfume, and jewelry. Tonks had a sweet tooth, he knew, but whatever Andromeda didn't send her in packages, she supplied herself. No, he needed to do something out of the ordinary.

Harry was still considering his options when Sunday's study group came around. Wand-deep in a footlong essay about human transfiguration, he didn't notice Hermione's elbowing until she accidentally hit his arm and caused him to knock over his ink pot.

"Blimey, Hermione, what is it?" he grumbled, siphoning the spreading pool of black off the parchment.

"I'm sorry! Here, I'll do it … look, Harry, at the door."

Irritated, he turned his head, and his annoyance vanished. Leaving Hermione to clean his essay, he hurried to the scowling, hulking figure lingering uncertainly in the doorway of the classroom.

"You came."

Eric shifted his bag to his opposite shoulder. "Figured I'd see what the big deal is. Our common room is too loud to concentrate, anyway."

"Oh? What's going on?" Harry asked nonchalantly, leading him to their table.

"Some fourth year's stash of fireworks were thrown in the fire 'to see what would happen.' Snape had to come sort it out." He caught Harry's eye and rolled his own. "No idea where Malfoy is. Why do you care?"

"I didn't say anything about Malfoy," Harry protested. If Malfoy wasn't in the Slytherin dormitory, Harry had a good idea where he was, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

"Whatever you say, Potter."

Harry resumed his seat next to Hermione, nodding at Eric to sit on the other side. "Hermione, you remember Eric from Tonks' house, right?"

She returned Harry's cleaned essay, giving the Slytherin a curious glance. "Hello."

He nodded in greeting, looking at her like she was an unfamiliar creature. She frowned under his scrutiny and edged her chair away. They had earned the attention of everyone else in the room. Thankfully, Harry's apparent approval appeared to ease the concerns of everyone else, and although all gave measuring looks, no one said anything. He was relieved; a few words out of place, and the touchy werewolf would have been out the door never to return, possibly taking one or two of Harry's classmates with him.

Ron, who had yet to take to him, narrowed his eyes. Eric caught the look and pointedly turned his gaze to Ginny, who was revising for History of Magic next to Dean. "Alright, Ginny?"

She eyed him warily before returning the greeting. Ron's ears went scarlet, and he began to whisper in heated tones to Lavender. Eric smirked, and Harry smothered a grin.

It took Harry another quarter of an hour to finish his essay. When Hermione saw him shove his books into his bag, she pulled the parchment toward her.

He halted her progress. "You don't need to look it over. I think it's fine."

She arched an eyebrow. "If you're sure."

"I am. But if you're looking to offer your services, I think Eric might appreciate some help. He has loads of work. Right, Eric?" He knew he was in deep water. Both parties glared at him, but he maintained an innocent expression. "Didn't you tell me you had to double up on your work to make up for what you missed and could use some help?" he continued hurriedly. "Hermione's the best in our year. She could do N.E.W.T.-level potions and charms before we even took our O.W.L.s."

A very pregnant pause ensued. "Yeah, I'm balls-deep here," Eric finally muttered.

Hermione's eyes widened at his choice of language, but she forced a faint smile. "Of course. I'm finished anyway. Do you want to … or I'll just …"

With some maneuvering she pulled up a chair next to Eric, shooting Harry a pointed glare in the process while he beat a hasty retreat. Neville caught up with him on the staircase.

"Alright, Harry?"

"Fine. You?"

"Good. I think I have the _Avis_ charm down now."

"That's great, Neville. I knew you'd get it."

Neville glanced back at the vanishing door to the Transfiguration classroom. "So, your friend Eric … is he, er …"

"No," Harry answered, guessing the end of his question. "He's a Slytherin, but he's not like the rest, I promise. He's just hard to get to know."

"That's good, that's good." Things fell silent, and Harry waited for his friend to say what he came for. When Neville spoke again, the words came out in a rush. "Have you thought any more about restarting Dumbledore's Army?"

Harry was startled. He'd thought this issue was settled. "No," he said, furrowing his brow. "We have the study group, don't we?" And, he grudgingly admitted to himself, Snape was actually a competent teacher, at least as far as the subject matter was concerned. His teaching style was as lacking as ever.

"Yeah, and it's great, but –" Neville stumbled into one of the trick steps. Harry gave him a hand out, and Neville grinned wryly. "Six years, and you'd think I would remember where all those are." At the top of the staircase Neville paused. "It's just all looking serious, Harry. What happened to you on New Year's Eve, and Hannah's parents, and Katie in Hogsmeade – we need to be ready. Just because we can pass our exams won't mean much when we face Death Eaters."

"Do you want to start a dueling club again, Neville?" Harry joked.

"If it helps."

Harry gave him a look. Neville was both eager and serious. "Why are you asking me, Neville? Why don't you start it?"

"You're Harry Potter. Me, I'm just the boy that's scared of Snape and likes plants."

"Neville, you're more than that," Harry protested. Neville smiled. "Truly."

"Thanks, Harry. Just think about it, would you?"

They chatted about the newest plants in Professor Sprout's greenhouses until they reached Gryffindor Tower, and then Harry did think about it, staring into the fireplace. In a year and a half, they would be done with Hogwarts, qualified adults out in the world. Would that be enough? Would Voldemort and the Death Eaters even wait? Harry already knew his own proximity was a danger. What if (if they were ever allowed to go back) Hogsmeade was attacked while students were there? He dismissed the idea. Voldemort wouldn't dare with the Aurors patrolling, although their mere presence proved the Ministry thought it vulnerable. What if –

"Harry Potter!"

Hermione appeared out of the portrait hole. She was less than happy.

"How was studying, Hermione?" Harry asked, trying to keep an innocent smile on his face as he stood.

"That wasn't funny, Harry!" she accused, making a beeline for him. He moved quickly, keeping the chair between them. "Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that was?"

"Oh, I have an idea," he returned, feinting left then spinning right as Hermione followed his ploy. They switched sides. "Similar to how I felt when you ambushed me with your parents."

A pillow had just left her hands. Harry wordlessly cast a rebounding shield, and it bounced harmlessly off Hermione's arm. Her mouth formed a perfect 'O' of sheepish surprise. "Harry, I didn't mean –"

"Yes, you did," he chastened, deciding it was safe to remove the obstacle in the chase and walking around the chair. "You had good intentions, but you knew what you were doing. Tell me you didn't plan for that conversation to happen."

"I'm sorry, Harry," she admitted. "I just want to make sure they're safe."

"So do I. Just tell us next time and skip the machinations, okay? I don't appreciate it."

She blinked. "Machinations? Who are you and what have you done with Harry?"

He grinned. "We're even, then?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"Aww!" Fay Dunbar squealed. "A lovers' quarrel!"

"We aren't lovers!" Harry and Hermione shouted in unison.

**oOo**

"When last we spoke, I revealed to you the existence of Tom Riddle's Horcruxes, which serve the purpose of keeping his soul alive should someone manage to destroy his body. Am I correct in believing you have questions, Harry?"

Harry settled into his chair across from the Headmaster. "Many."

That seemed to please him. "Excellent. Questions are the seeds of knowledge. If you will allow me, I wish to summarize my discovery of his efforts and what I have done to stop them thus far. Then, by all means, ask your questions."

Harry nodded his consent. Dumbledore withdrew two objects from his desk, both recognizable to Harry.

First he held up a battered old diary, ink-stained with a hole through the middle. "When you and Ginny Weasley shared your remarkable story about the Chamber of Secrets, I was most curious about this diary. Through many uses of my pensieve, I have become most familiar with the workings of a memory. This was no mere memory. Memories do not act for themselves nor attempt to become something more."

"The diary was a Horcrux?" Harry blurted, horrified. Ginny had carried that thing for months.

"Yes. By stabbing it with the basilisk fang that day, you not only saved your life and that of Miss Weasley, you also in all likelihood saved many others by delaying his return to power by two years."

"One Horcrux down," Harry mused.

"Yes, although neither of us knew it at the time. We were one step closer to defeating him before he even returned." Dumbledore set the diary down. "Do you remember what he said the night he did return?"

"I remember everything about that night," Harry replied quietly. He would never forget.

Dumbledore nodded. "I had long known that he feared death. When you told me his speech to his followers, certain words grasped my attention. 'They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? … I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality.' That is when I began my journey into the life of Tom Riddle, and it led me to one last memory."

Harry fell once more into the abyss of the pensieve, wondering what it could hold this time. One never knew. It proved to be shocking, as a teenage Tom Riddle questioned a younger but still portly Professor Slughorn, plying him with compliments and crystallized pineapple. Not only was Riddle a clear favorite of Slughorn, who told him he was sure to make Minister, but the professor also provided him with information about Horcruxes, albeit horrified for doing so.

"I can't believe him," Harry sputtered angrily when they emerged into the present.

"You must not judge Professor Slughorn too harshly," Professor Dumbledore scolded gently. "He was but one of many who encountered Tom Riddle at Hogwarts and expected something brilliant of him. Even at a young age, he was very intelligent and knew just when to be charming. It would have been easy for Professor Slughorn to tell himself Riddle merely wanted to know for intellectual purposes."

"Is that why you brought Sl- Professor Slughorn here this year?" Harry asked. "To get the memory?"

"Yes, and it proved to be somewhat troublesome. Professor Slughorn is not proud of what he did, and the first memory he provided me was badly modified, attempting to cover up his participation. It took much persuasion on my part to retrieve the original memory, but I did so." For a brief second, Harry saw a flash of the only man Voldemort feared on the Headmaster's face.

"Seven Horcruxes," Harry mused in astonishment. "Seven parts of his soul to destroy. How can we find them, know what they are, destroy them –"

Dumbledore held up a hand. "Seven pieces of soul. Six Horcruxes. The seventh piece of soul still resides in his body. Mangled beyond recognition, perhaps, but still there. And we have destroyed two: the diary, and this." He lifted the other object Harry recognized – the Peverell ring owned by Marvolo Gaunt, Voldemort's grandfather. A large crack ran down the center, something that had not been there when Harry saw it in a memory.

"The ring! So it was one, too? How did you destroy it? I stabbed the diary with a basilisk fang, but unless you keep a supply around here …"

Dumbledore smiled. "Sadly, no. However, I do have this."

Standing, he turned and pulled at the portrait behind his desk. It swung open, and after a moment he turned back, holding a large, silver sword, the handle glittering with large rubies.

Harry gaped. "That's the Sword of Gryffindor! You kept it this entire time? And it can destroy Horcruxes?"

"Not originally, no. But you killed the basilisk with this, and basilisk venom, as you discovered, is a most effective way of destroying a Horcrux." Harry didn't follow, and this must have shown on his face. "Harry, what do you know of goblin-wrought objects?"

This sounded like something he'd slept through in History of Magic. Where else had he heard of goblin-wrought silver … Sirius. The Black family goblets that Mundungus were so interested in. "Er, they're expensive?"

"And with good reason. Goblin-made artefacts have the power to take in only that which strengthens them and repel that which will damage, such as dirt and rust. Therefore, when you stabbed the basilisk with it –"

"It absorbed the basilisk venom," Harry realized aloud. "Brilliant. We know how to destroy them, so now we just have to find them."

"Indeed, and thus the reasoning behind our journey into Tom Riddle's life. I found the ring in the Gaunts' shack. What does that tell you?"

Harry thought about it. The ring had been his link to his magical ancestry. In the memory, he had been angry to learn that his father was a Muggle and his only remaining relative an impoverished, insane uncle. "It was important," he finally spoke. "His heritage, not just to the Gaunts but to – Slytherin. His mother had Slytherin's locket."

Dumbledore beamed. "Precisely. I believe the locket in particular held dual meaning for him. Can you think of why? What else was important in young Tom Riddle's life?"

"Hogwarts. His home," Harry replied woodenly, his stomach lurching unpleasantly. _Just like me._

"Precisely again. That is why I expect he sought other relics from the Founders." He glanced at the window. "I see time has escaped from us again, so I shall quickly finish. I have come to believe that his final Horcrux is his snake, Nagini."

"I thought Horcruxes were only objects."

"Normally, if you can use that term in this situation, they are. To use an animal would present many risks. It can think for itself, move under its own power, retain some control. But as I am sure you vividly recall, you yourself were provided with a glimpse into the mind of the snake. As you and Voldemort are linked, so must he and the snake for you to see into her mind."

Harry grimaced. He still hated thinking about the night Arthur Weasley nearly died. Oddly, Dumbledore had glanced away, no longer meeting his eyes. However, he soon returned his gaze.

"Lastly, Harry, I wish for this to become a standing meeting every Saturday night at eight when I am in the castle. We will continue to discuss the Horcruxes as I search for more information, and I intend to begin showing you facets of magic you will not learn at Hogwarts."

Harry's gaze snapped up. Finally. He had been waiting for this since their first meeting in September. "You're going to train me?"

"I am. However, since our mission often leads me out of the castle, I have sought help in this matter. It is my wish for you to attempt to learn Occlumency again."

Harry couldn't help another grimace. Great. He was wrong. Dumbledore was going to shove him off onto Snape again, and what a smashing success that effort had been.

"Not Professor Snape, Harry." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled when he breathed a sigh of relief. "I regret that. It was my mistake, and I apologize. No, I have someone else in mind. I shall let you know when he's available."

Interest piqued, Harry stood. Who could it possibly be?

And speaking of others … "Professor? Does anyone else know of this?"

Dumbledore studied the tips of his fingers, pressed together in front of his face, before answering. "No, they do not. Secrecy is of the utmost importance. Should he catch even a hint that we know of his secret, Riddle will waste no time in creating more and moving those already made. I would ask you to treat this with the highest discretion. However, if you feel the urge to confide in those you trust absolutely, such as Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, I will not restrain you. It does not always do to keep everything to oneself."

It wasn't until he was past the gargoyles that Harry wondered about the sad tint to his voice.

**oOo**

Valentine's Day ignored Harry's reluctance and came around as usual. By that time he had formulated some semblance of a plan. Phase One began at breakfast.

There seemed to be more owl post than normal, but Harry supposed he wasn't the only one with a sweetheart. Down the table Lavender was squealing over Ron's gift of a heart-shaped box of chocolates. Harry hid his grin in his goblet of pumpkin juice. To Ron's initial relief, she hadn't given him another necklace; what she had given him was an equally gaudy watch.

As always, Tonks was at the staff table, with holiday-appropriate pink hair. Harry grinned again when a barn owl detached itself from the crowd and flew toward her, but his expression was wiped clean when several others did the same.

Seamus swore.

"What's wrong?" Parvati asked.

"Thought I'd earn meself some points and get a one-up on the fit Auror," he said glumly. "All birds like a bit of romance, right? Should have reckoned I wouldn't be the only one."

The flowers and other gifts had now attracted the professors. Tonks was laughing and passing around a box of candy. Harry fumed, stabbing at a piece of sausage with such vigor it shot off his plate and onto Neville's. So much for making it special.

"Harry, you're overreacting," Hermione said impatiently afterward.

"It's just frustrating," he complained, knowing his voice was laced with petulance. "How would you feel if the person you were dating was showered with gifts from other people, and you couldn't do anything about it?"

"Well, Viktor always received a lot of attention from other girls, but I can't really say we were ever truly dating. It was only the Yule Ball." She glanced at him with brow-furrowed curiosity. "It's not like you to be so jealous."

"I'm not jealous. I just wish I could tell people about us."

"Why can't you?" Ron asked. He had flushed at the mention of Hermione and Viktor Krum but had otherwise ignored it.

"Tonks says the first thing the Auror Office will do is pull her from Hogwarts and the Malfoy investigation. She's on thin ice as it is because he's her cousin."

"That's stupid," Ron said. "Why would Tonks get in trouble for dating you?"

"Merlin's pants!" Stomach twisting, Harry turned to see Lavender, who had approached unbeknownst. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. "You and the Auror? I knew it! Oh, this is too juicy!"

"You can't tell anyone, Lavender," Harry said quickly.

"Not even Parvati," added Hermione.

"Especially not Parvati."

"But –" Like a balloon, Lavender was about to burst.

Ron took her hands, and the three of them surrounded her, the wall at her back. "You really can't say anything, Lav," her boyfriend told her in an uncharacteristically serious tone. "It has to stay a secret."

Harry liked Lavender well enough – besides being Ron's girlfriend, she had been one of the few last year to believe him about Voldemort's return and join Dumbledore's Army – but he also knew she was one of the biggest gossips in their year. If she couldn't keep her mouth shut … but he couldn't get angry. It was only a matter of time, especially if they talked freely about it in the corridors. _Idiot._

"Okay, okay, I won't tell anyone," Lavender finally agreed, although her reluctance was as clear as the lenses of Harry's glasses. "But you have to tell me _everything_."

She looped her arm through Harry's and pulled him down the corridor with her, chattering away as Harry looked to his friends for help.

By Transfiguration that afternoon Harry was over his bout of jealousy. He knew Tonks well enough to know she was probably highly amused and nothing else, and he had a feeling he'd be the beneficiary of all that candy. What mattered was that she had received his gift and that she showed up tonight. Like Cooper had said, Harry was the one she wanted, and that was all that mattered. He even laughed about it along with everyone else when Professor McGonagall brought it up in class, clear disapproval flashing across her aged face.

"No doubt all of you noticed the spectacle at the staff table this morning," she said curtly. "Auror Tonks is a guest of this school stationed here on Ministry business. She is to be treated with the same respect as any of the staff and faculty, not as an object of your misplaced affections."

"Lockhart," Dean muttered behind a badly disguised cough.

Lips thinned, McGonagall's eyes swept over her tittering students, and for the briefest instant they rested on Harry. He didn't back down, meeting her gaze. Message received and filed.

Harry had specifically asked Tonks to meet that night. Whether she knew he had something planned or simply thought he wanted a training session, he didn't know. Regardless, she dared to kiss him right in the corridor outside the Fat Lady.

"Thanks for the gift, babe," she murmured. "That was sweet."

"Really? I thought you might think it lame."

She laughed. Merlin, he loved that lilting sound. "I rather think Valentine's Day as a whole is lame, but no, it was sweet. And thoughtful – most men go for flowers or chocolate. I've never received a stuffed hippogriff. And personalized, at that. Clever use of the _colovaria_ charm."

"I just wanted it to be special," he replied, his voice tighter than he wanted.

"Oh, Harry, don't worry about them. We had a supply teacher for Professor Vector for a few months when I was in my fifth year. He was young and handsome, and half the school went nuts on Valentine's Day. Same thing. People always like what's new." She kissed him again. "It was special. _You_ are special. Er, where are we going?"

Basking in the glow of her praise, it took him a moment to process the subsequent question. "Someplace different. No Room of Requirement tonight."

Tonks arched her eyebrows, one corner of her mouth quirking in a grin. "Really? Then by all means, andiamo."

Linking her arm with his, they proceeded through the castle, hiding from a few teachers and prefects and sharing a very lovely conversation with Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, who didn't seem at all concerned with their joint midnight appearance. Harry figured Tonks deduced their destination halfway there, but she didn't say anything until they emerged onto the ramparts of the Astronomy Tower.

"Okay, just stay there and don't look. Promise?"

Tonks turned around to face the door they had just emerged from. "Sure," she said, clearly humoring him.

Harry hurried to pull everything out of his school bag, glancing every few seconds to make sure she wasn't peeking. He wouldn't put it past her.

"Right," he said when he was finished. "You can look now."

Her face, formerly amused, changed to delighted surprise. "Babe … you are something else. You did all this for me?"

"I had some help from a house-elf named Dobby," he muttered, both pleased and embarrassed.

A blanket lay underneath a small hamper. A thermos, filled with her favorite coffee/hot chocolate mixture sat next to it, and in the middle was a fluttering candle.

"You made me a picnic! I didn't expect anything like this."

"You don't think it's dumb? I know a picnic in February isn't the smartest idea, but –"

She crashed into him with hurricane-like force, arms wrapped around his shoulders and mouth latched onto his before he knew what was happening. Aware that this was not a bad thing, Harry responded eagerly, his enthusiasm lifting her off the ground. It was only when air became a necessity that they parted, finding Tonks trapped between the wall and Harry. With her legs wrapped around him and her lips swollen in that freshly snogged look, it made for a portrait of temptation.

"But it's perfect," she finished quietly, laying a few final, soft kisses across his face before licking his ear and giggling at the squirm she received in return.

It did, in fact, turn out to be perfect. Forgoing a warming charm in favor of cuddling together under a blanket against the ramparts, they talked and ate the snacks Dobby had put together, including an exploding bon-bon cleverly concealed in a plain chocolate sweet. She laughed uproariously as the sticky fudge dripped from her face, flinging at fingerful at Harry.

He wasn't the only one with a surprise that night. When they finished, Tonks dug through her bag before presenting him with a rather sloppily wrapped gift, beaming. It turned out to be a framed picture of the two of them, 'With love from Tonks' scribbled in the corner.

"It's nothing, really, but I think it's cute," she said mildly.

"It's great, thanks." He pecked her on the cheek, gratified.

Harry had one more thing up his sleeve. Making his way around the tower, he picked up his Firebolt, which Dobby (who had earned more than a few socks that evening) had hidden for him earlier.

"Last time we were up here, you brought this for me," he explained to her bemused smile. "I figured tonight it could handle both of us."

"Well, then, ladies first," she declared with a saucy wink, mounting the broom and tugging her hat securely over her head.

The flight that followed was unlike anything he'd ever done before. Snugly pressed together against the broom, pink hair fluttered in Harry's face while laughter bubbled up from deep inside Tonks, borne out of nothing but pure joy. They skimmed the lake, swooped the turrets, and even flew alongside a thestral above the forest. Despite how cold it was, Harry felt warm inside, his arms around the woman in front of him, and it startled him to realize how content he could be, more than willing to forget about Malfoy and Horcruxes as long as she was happy. The feeling was so heady he was almost dizzy.

"Harry." He didn't hear her the first time, the word a stray leaf caught in the wind that rushed past them. "Harry."

Concerned, he came to one of the Firebolt's patented stops-on-a-knut. The lake shimmered below. "Is something wrong?"

Tonks twisted her neck, awkwardly looking behind her at him. "Wrong? No, the opposite, actually. You – this – tonight, it's amazing. You continually surprise me, Harry."

"In a good way?"

She twisted further, now sitting rather precariously on the thin stick of polished wood. "In the very best possible way."

The setting for the kiss that followed, hovering on a broom over the sheen of a lake lit by a full moon on a cloudless night, would only have been improved by fireworks. Kissing and touching and _feeling_, the arctic chill of the night was broken by skin that felt warmed by flames, by the furious stoking of the embers deep in his core. As soft moans gave him direction, Tonks wiggled, attempting to pivot completely and face him. As she swung one leg, her knee came in contact with a very particular spot, and Harry saw far more stars than lived in the sky.

Gasping, he broke away from the embrace, and Tonks shot backward, blurting out an apology even as she overcorrected and began to descend from his sight, a shout escaping her mouth. Too late, Harry reached out, receiving only a boot in one hand and the loss of his own balance for his efforts, the once-beautiful lake now approaching at an alarming pace.

_Ouch._

That was all he could think, kicking furiously as his body tried to ascertain which way was up. After the initial slap of the surface, the water tore at his lungs with ten thousand razor sharp knives, searing in its icy cold. With the night's sky, little light made it through to show the way to the surface, but finally Harry's natural buoyancy helped him rise to the top, and none too quick. He'd spent enough time in the lake during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament to last a lifetime.

Grateful, he gasped for short, painful breaths of air, the best he could manage as the arctic water continued to suppress the full inflation of his screaming lungs. Splashes to his right alerted him to Tonks; she too had broken the surface. Waving a hand in his direction, she began to kick for the distant shore, and he followed her example.

Hampered by heavy clothing, what Harry could feel of his limbs were leaden and slow. Bit by bit, his extremities were going numb. At one point it seemed as if the shoreline was actually receding, but he finally scraped blessed sand under his feet, and he crawled forward with his last remaining tendrils of energy to collapse beside Tonks.

Audibly breathing hard, she doggedly pushed herself to her knees, drawing her wand. "H-h-h-hot air ch-charm," she mumbled through chattering teeth.

His own clattering so loudly he was sure the castle could hear, he did the same as waves of both hot air and relief washed over him. He heard Tonks sigh as his charm hit her. Together they dried each other until hypothermia was no longer a threat. She burrowed into him when they stopped, fingers creeping beneath his coat and around his back as she sought the further comfort of body heat. Harry was only too happy to wrap his arms around her in return.

They stood pressed together until a noise caught their attention. A light, reminiscent of the lanterns Hagrid carried, approached the path from the direction of the forest.

"Someone there?" the gamekeeper called. "Yeh shouldn' be out righ' now."

Tonks jerked as if to leave, but Harry held her tightly. "It's just Hagrid," he whispered.

"I don't want to see anyone else right now," she replied softly, looking at him with eyes he knew to be gray.

"Okay."

The Firebolt had come to rest near them, hovering at waist height with its typical impeccable instinct. They jumped aboard, Tonks seated behind him this time, and Harry took off. Strangely silent after their laughter-filled prior trip, Harry could feel her heart thudding against his back as she pressed against him, hands clenching his waist tightly, and he wondered if he imagined it beating in time with his own.

The Astronomy Tower approached sooner than he liked, but he sensed the evening was over. Awkwardness prevailed; a curtain had been swept aside above the reflection of the lake, and neither knew what to do next.

Finally Tonks turned and approached. When only the barest air separated them, she did not kiss him as expected but rather searched his face, brushing his fringe away with the lightest of feather touches. Something burned intensely behind that heart-shaped visage, the stormcloud eyes speaking volumes with nary a spoken word.

He had fallen without realizing and landed on his feet. She was his undoing. He knew that now, knew he was an addict and she was the remedy, knew he would easily accept the bad if it meant having the good. He had to speak, had to tell her.

"Nymphadora …" The name came unbidden, as if certain things could be imparted only without the informality of nicknames, and for once she didn't object. An ache in his chest threatened his words. "You and me … I … I think that I ..."

He'd never seen her look more frightened.

"Oh, sweetheart." Low, so low he had to strain to hear. "I know."


	22. Tonks

**Tonks**

Tonks whistled as she strolled through the Transfiguration Department. Her second term stationed at Hogwarts was so far much more enjoyable than the first. Professor Dumbledore had approached her a few weeks ago and asked if she would be interested in giving guest lectures and providing advice about Auror training to prospective students. She had jumped at the offer, ready for anything that would relieve the boredom of endless meandering patrols.

A screech interrupted her progress. Peeves floated several feet above her head with what looked suspiciously like water bombs piled in his arms. Tonks sighed.

"Why so dry, Tonksie-wonksie?" he cackled. "A joke for Peevses if it pleases."

"Bugger off, Peeves."

"Make a threat, and you'll get wet!" He laughed uproariously, launching the water bombs at her and blowing a raspberry when his arms were free.

"_Immobulus!_" They froze halfway between the two, and Tonks gave the poltergeist a saccharine smile. "Pardon my wrath, but you're about to get a bath." She flicked her wand almost lazily, and the water bombs reversed direction, pelting Peeves as he tore away, cursing.

A door down the hall opened. "Dare I ask, Nymphadora?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Just chatting with Peeves, Professor."

McGonagall frowned at the direction Peeves had disappeared before gesturing for the Auror to come along. She did so, tugging at her robes. She'd thrown some on to look professional, but she suspected the trainers and neon leggings under her skirt negated the effect, especially now that she stood next to the teacher in her straight-laced black robes.

Tonks flashed a smile at Harry as she walked to the front of the classroom, amused at the surprise on his face. He was so cute in his uniform – and so young. Standing up there, she felt almost like his teacher. That would be weird. And interesting. She'd give him a detention, and when he showed up, she would clear off her desk to teach him a few things about –

"Auror Tonks?"

McGonagall and the students were staring at her. She cleared her throat, giving them a friendly smile.

"Right. So, like Professor McGonagall said, I'm Tonks and I'm a Metamorphmagus." She hopped up on the edge of McGonagall's desk but instantly jumped off again at the clear disapproval on the elder witch's face. A few students sniggered. "What that means is that I was born with the ability to change my appearance at will without the aid of magic."

She made a show of sheathing her wand, then let her gaze sweep across the students. When her eyes fell on Hermione, she winked. One pained expression later, and a carbon copy of Hermione took her place. Tonks pulled out her wand and waved it across her body, transfiguring her clothing into a replica of Hermione's Gryffindor uniform. With another wink, she quickly changed it to Hufflepuff colors.

The students broke out into impressed murmurs, and Tonks beamed. She had yet to grow out of the amusement of morphing. Hands immediately shot up in the air, and she and McGonagall began to tackle them. Tonks was as forthcoming as always, answering even the most personal of questions (which there always were).

Afterward Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ron's girlfriend lingered outside the classroom. Back to her normal appearance topped with a messy turquoise coif, Tonks joined them.

"If it isn't my favorite Gryffindors," she said before offering the blonde a cheerful smile. "Wotcher, I'm Tonks. And you're Ron's better half?"

She giggled. "Lavender." Her eyes darted over to Harry as she accepted Tonks' outstretched hand.

It took Tonks all of two seconds to catch on. "Seriously, Harry?"

"I didn't tell her!" he protested.

"I think it's adorable," Lavender gushed. "The way you kept looking at him in class just now? Terribly cute."

"I wasn't –" Tonks began before noticing Hermione's slight nod. Had she been that obvious? Well, discreet was never her middle name. "So how did you like the show?"

"I thought it was fascinating," Hermione answered keenly. "I never realized Metamorphmagi had such limitations. You're quite good at transfiguration, too."

"Thanks. It was my best subject at Hogwarts. McG could never make up her mind whether I was her favorite or the bane of her existence." They laughed. "Well, I just wanted to say hello. I've some work to do, so off I go. Try to get into trouble, mates."

"I'll see you later?" said Harry.

"Yeah." They shared a smile, full of secrets and promises, until Ron cleared his throat.

She heard Harry grumble as they walked away. "I don't interrupt you two when you're …"

So someone else knew about them. Tonks sighed. She was fairly familiar with teenage girls, having been one herself once, and she knew it wouldn't stay quiet for long. That sort of gossip was too juicy to stay hidden. Just what she needed. Well, at least a good scandal would liven up the place. She could practically hear the ghosts and portraits gabbing; they were worse than a lot of old spinsters.

"Tonks!"

She spun on her heel. Ron, of all people, dashed up, out of breath.

"Told them I left my book in McGonagall's classroom," he said in a rush. "So, um, listen, er …"

"You want to get in the knickers of that pretty bird but don't know what to do when you get there?"

His face went scarlet. "What! No, I mean yes, I mean no. I mean, that's not – what I'm trying to say is – well, I –"

"You're having gender identity issues and since now you know I can grow other parts, even if I can't use them, you decided I was the best one to talk to?"

If possible, he reddened even more. "No! Tonks!"

She chuckled. "Relax, Ronnie. I'm just taking the piss. Breathe a bit and tell me what you came to say."

"I'm sorry about Bill," he blurted out.

She raised her eyebrows. "That? No worries there. Bill and I had a right good laugh about it."

"You told Bill?" Ron swore.

"Calm your tits. He doesn't care, and if he told Fleur, I'm sure she doesn't. You mightn't have noticed, but she's a Veela. I don't expect she worries much about holding onto her man."

"Well, I'm sorry anyway."

"Okay then." An awkward pause. "Something else on your mind, Weasley?"

He wore an interesting expression of someone both distinctly uncomfortable yet determined. She wondered how long this conversation had been in the making. "I know we've had our rows, but Harry's my best mate. Always will be. Sometimes I get it in my head that he sort of has everything, but the truth is he gets shit on a lot." Tonks nodded. "And the thing is … I really hope you turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to him."

_Oh, wow._ The words almost hurt her. Not sure if she was required to respond, or if she even was capable, she settled for another nod. Ron returned it and left without saying anything else.

_Oh, wow._

**oOo**

_What about Harry?_

What _about_ Harry? Why did they ask that? Why did they ask _her _that? What was she supposed to say? Was she supposed to say that Dumbledore could bugger off, that Harry should be present at these meetings of what she called the new and improved Order, that he was the one who started this process last autumn? Was she supposed to say that he was fine, that he impressed her every day in their (still hush-hush) training, that she'd never seen someone with such raw talent? Or should she say that he was great in ways she ought not to know, that she was in over her head, that the way he made her feel terrified her?

"Well, what _about _Harry?" she blurted out.

Several startled faces turned her way, and Tonks suddenly realized that they had not, in fact, been staring at her. The question hadn't even been directed toward her; rather, it was for the group at large. And now she looked a fool.

"What I was saying," Remus continued after a moment, "is that we already agreed to include him."

"I'm afraid Professor Dumbledore is not going to allow Harry to leave school," McGonagall contributed.

"We'll have to keep him informed, then, and he can send his input," Hestia said, frowning. "It's not ideal, but …"

"Nymphadora can tell him what we discuss in the meetings, can't you?"

Now everyone _was_ looking at her. _Thanks, Mum._"Sure," she said, holding her head up. They could think what they wanted and bugger off. "Not a problem."

After more banal discussion, they split into small groups to train. The initial look of skepticism on many faces hadn't escaped her notice, but Mad-Eye carried the authority of a legendary Auror and a hero of the First War. Tonks approved; it was shocking how many people forgot basic spells after Hogwarts unless they used them in their field of work, and one needed a solid foundation to learn subsequent, more difficult magic.

Posts were set up around the house. Her mother demonstrated simple healing spells in the kitchen while Cooper supervised the practice of shields and stunners in the hall. Mad-Eye and Remus occupied the living room, discussing patronuses, both regular and messenger types. Tonks herself assisted McGonagall in a concealment exercise in her dad's office, and the Weasley twins brought samples of some of their more useful products.

She thought it was going well. Everyone was eager and willing to lend a hand. Although still a long way from becoming the true guerrilla force some wanted, a sense of purpose pervaded the meeting.

Tonks was in the middle of instructing the disillusionment-revealing spell when a large spectral griffin appeared next to her. "Tonks, I need you in the garden," it said in Mad-Eye's voice.

Shrugging at McGonagall, Tonks stepped into the back garden. "Mad-Eye?"

He was nowhere to be found, so after glancing around for a bit, she turned to go back inside. And stopped in her tracks.

"No … it can't be," she whispered. _Not him, not here, not him!_

She couldn't tear her eyes away from the figure in between her and the door, the one thing she feared more than anything in this world … Heart pounding as her veins turned to ice, Tonks forced herself to raise her wand in a vain hope.

"_R-ridikkulus_!"

She drove the boggart into a trunk she only now noticed and sat on the lid, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to erase the image from her mind.

"Alright there, Tonks?"

Mad-Eye walked out the door, his good eye fixed on her while his magical one surveyed the property.

"Oh, fuck you, Mad-Eye," she spat. "Merlin H. Emrys, what was that all about?"

She had cursed him a thousand times, and it rolled off his back like water on a duck. "What's going on with you? You used to be able to take a boggart without batting an eyelid, unless it was at a boy you fancied. Going soft up there at Hogwarts?"

"Not bloody likely." If nothing else, working with Harry was keeping her edge honed. She didn't feel like answering Mad-Eye's question; Tonks at twenty-two was scared of different things than Tonks at eighteen. "Just startled me, I suppose. What are you up to?"

"That's the point. We need to decide who can handle a fighting situation and who needs to stay back. Found this boggart a few days ago in my attic and decided to bring it along. Feel up to overseeing or need to take a nap?"

"Bugger off, old-timer, and let the young ones take the lead." A corner of her mouth quirked in a sardonic smile. "Aren't you supposed to be retired?"

"Only in my nightmares." He touched her shoulder briefly with a heavy hand. "That's m'girl," he said gruffly. Mad-Eye never did like to show overt affection. "I'll send 'em along one at a time."

Tonks glared at his retreating form, more upset with herself than her mentor. An Auror should be able to handle far worse than a mere boggart. It gave her some comfort that she wasn't the only one to be taken by surprise; while some managed to keep their calm and figure it out relatively quickly, others completely lost their heads, and Tonks was obliged to step in. In those cases, she worked quickly, as uncomfortable allowing others to see her boggart as she was to see theirs. One's innermost fear was a most private affair.

The worst was her mother. Hidden in the dark shadows, she closed her eyes when Andromeda walked outside, desiring with all her heart to not see her mother's greatest fear. When the expected incantation and _crack_ did not come, instead replaced with what sounded suspiciously like sobbing, she opened her eyes and gasped.

A pile of bodies lay on the ground. It was chilling. Tonks made out her father, herself, Narcissa Malfoy, Harry, Remus Lupin, and more. All were clearly dead. Standing over them was a facsimile of her mother, while her real mother had turned her back, her face in her hands as she quietly wept.

Tonks quickly forced the boggart back into the trunk and rushed forward, throwing her arms around Andromeda. "Everything's okay, Mum. It's just a boggart, it's gone. No one is dead. We're all fine."

"What? Why … why did you call me out here to face a boggart?"

"It's one of Mad-Eye's patented mad ideas," Tonks explained. "I'm so sorry. But, Mum, I've seen you handle a boggart."

"I know, I know." Andromeda wiped her eyes. "I was just so surprised. And then all of you were there, and I was left all alone."

Sudden clarity swept over Tonks. Her mother, who had already lost one family, saw it happening again. And despite the fact that Tonks knew it was an all too real possibility, she hurried to shove it away. "No, Mum. No one is leaving you. Okay? We'll all get through this. You and Dad will grow old together, and I'll be right here to hassle you along, just as I always have."

Andromeda gave a watery chuckle. "I know. I'm being silly, aren't I?"

"Of course not. We're all afraid of losing someone." _Of losing more_, she added silently, thinking first of Sirius, and then of Harry, who had already lost so much. "Come on. I'll walk you inside."

They put their arms around each. "You'll be good at this someday, baby," her mother said with a fond smile.

"Good at what?"

"Offering comfort, much like a mother. It's quite a role reversal."

Tonks stared at her mother with consternation. "Me, a mum? Why would you wish to inflict that upon a poor innocent child?"

Andromeda stopped. "Baby, are you actually telling me you don't want children of your own?"

"I don't know, Mum." Tonks sighed. "I'm an Auror. I have things to do. I can't imagine having the time to raise a kid."

"My only chance at grandchildren, gone." Though her tone was teasing, Tonks heard a hint of real sadness. Andromeda continued. "And if you marry someone who wants children, what then?"

Tonks laughed. "I'd have to find someone to marry first, and believe me, that is a long, long way away."

And it spoke to the wisdom of mothers that Andromeda did not press her on that.

The second half of the meeting was comprised of discussions to gather intelligence. Mad-Eye wanted to begin compiling dossiers on known and suspected Death Eaters, the first step toward tracking, infiltration, and eventual extraction. Tonks and Cooper were assigned the job of copying what information the Ministry already carried on Death Eaters. He cut his eyes at her when Mad-Eye gave them their task, and when he pulled her aside afterward, she knew what was coming.

"You realize we're being asked to steal classified documents from the Ministry of Magic," Cooper said in a low voice.

"Yeah. Are you going to have an issue with that?"

"We took an oath," he reminded her, but his voice was carefully free of reproach or accusation.

"Believe me, I know. I went through the same feelings when I first joined the Order," she replied. "It's hard, but in the end –"

"– It's more important than our careers," he finished. "I know that. I'm simply trying to wrap my head around the idea that I'm risking throwing away something I've worked for half my life."

"That goes away. Although I have to admit it was much easier when Fudge was bumbling around up there, ignoring what was perched directly on the bridge of his nose," said Tonks frankly.

Cooper nodded. Gus, who had known Tonks her entire life, came over to say goodbye, and Cooper didn't speak again until they were alone. "Why didn't you ask Alex and the others?"

Tonks took her time answering. "I think Alex is the greatest team leader the AO has, but I also know he's extremely loyal to the Ministry. He would never turn me in – I'm sure he's aware of my affiliation with the Order – but he's equally unlikely to join a underground resistance force. Jason is so good at what he does because he lacks passion. He's the consummate professional: efficient and emotionless, but doing something like this requires some strong feelings. And Sam … I love the kid, and he's brave enough in a fight, but I just don't think he has the fortitude for covert rebellion."

He whistled. "Nymphadora Tonks, how did you get so good at reading people?"

"Don't call me Nymphadora, Lesley Cooper. To answer your question, more than a year of frequently impersonating another and infiltrating unfriendly groups. Plus, I have a good teacher." She winked.

He grimaced at his first name. "You didn't get that from me," he demurred, tapping his head. "I only read people up here. You're much better at it than me."

"Not always," she said, suddenly sober.

In response the tall Auror slung a lanky arm over her shoulder and kissed her bright red hair, pulling her to him as they returned to the remainder of the group. Hestia glanced at the pair with blatant curiosity, and Tonks wondered if she was interested in Cooper or if she was speculating if they were a couple. She wasn't often mindful of appearances, but this was Cooper. He was special. She removed her arm, slipping out from under his and flashing him a reassuring smile.

Not ten minutes had passed, teasing and laughing loudly at the twins' jokes, before she heard a whistle distinctive to her ears. Quickly making an excuse, she bounded toward the front of the house, meeting Cooper in the front hall.

"There he goes," he hissed.

They moved in on their target with practiced precision. "Mr. Burke, sir," Tonks called respectfully.

He slowed to a stop but did not turn. "The Aurors," he said in low, gravelly voice. He reminded Tonks of Snape; although he did not speak loudly, one didn't have to strain to hear him. "I have been expecting you."

They flanked him. "Then you know what we want," Cooper said.

"I do."

Tonks studied the mysterious man known as Adminius Burke. He'd been a recluse since abruptly leaving his partner Reginald Borgin. Records showed that Borgin had bought out Burke over fifteen years prior, and that was the last anyone heard of him. Mad-Eye vouched for him but told Tonks to keep her nose out of it when she pushed for more information.

"How well did you know Borgin?" Tonks asked. Cooper frowned at her, but she suspected Burke wasn't one to appreciate small talk.

She was right. "At one point I knew him better than anyone. We worked side by side since we were children. The store was his life."

"And you?" Cooper prompted.

Burke turned one beady eye toward him. "It was my life's work."

Apparently he wasn't going to be terribly forthcoming. Tonks took her turn. "So what made you leave?"

"Personal differences."

She bit her tongue for fear of saying the wrong thing. Merlin, she hated questionings. This was why Cooper was her partner, among other reasons. "Have you had any contact with him since?" he asked.

"None." This time the eyes came her way. "Shall you ask me what you truly desire to know, Auror Tonks?"

"Alright. We suspect Borgin was working with Voldemort, and we suspect he was killed to silence him. We want to know if you have any knowledge of such events, and also if you can assist in a specific inventory of the assets of his store."

"An inventory." His tone betrayed nothing. "Surely the Auror Office is capable of handling an inventory of Dark artefacts."

"Mr. Burke," Cooper began, pleasant enough but firm. "We are asking you to assist us in an official investigation. If you accept, you will be paid as an independent contractor and will sign a nondisclosure agreement. Only then will you receive any information beyond what you have already been given. Do you accept?"

He was taking too long to answer. "We're asking for your help," Tonks broke in.

Finally he deigned to respond. "I have not set foot in that store since the day I left," he said slowly. "Yes, I will assist you. Meet me there Friday night at ten o'clock."

He walked away briskly, pulling his long cloak close against the February cold. Tonks blinked. She watched as Borgin disappeared down the street. What a strange man.

When Cooper tugged on her arm to return to the house, she voiced her concerns. "We should have been the ones to set the terms. If we let him call the shots, he's in control."

"We need his help, Tonks. What does it matter if he decides when we'll meet? That's only a few days away."

"I don't think I trust him, Coop. He's creepy."

"Because he's an ancient man who sounds like he's smoked a lifetime's worth of fags, or because you don't trust anyone?"

"I trust people!" she retorted.

"Who?"

"You, for starters." He smiled wryly at the flattery, and Tonks slipped her arm through his as they returned to the warmth of the house. "My parents. Alex, Jason, and Sam. Mad-Eye. Remus. And Harry."

"That's a short list. Do you ever think –"

"That you're being nosy?" She stuck out her tongue. "Only all the time."

"Tonks," he began. She knew that tone, and she didn't want to hear it. She never wanted to hear what he had to say in that tone.

"Not right now, okay?" She elbowed him, trying to restore some lightness. "When did you become such a drag?"

"That's what happens when I'm deprived of your presence. You should come by the team room – it's dreary beyond belief."

"I am going to swing by tomorrow."

"You aren't going back to Hogwarts tonight?" She shook her head. "Come over, then. We'll get Chinese takeaway and beer and watch kung-fu movies until we pass out. Just like old times."

"Yeah, sure," she agreed readily. The leisure and fun she'd had at Christmas seemed so far away now. "Let me make an excuse to Mum and then I'll be there."

"Right. See you in a bit."

"Oi!" she called before he was out of hearing. "Eggrolls!"

**oOo**

Consciousness came slowly. Why was she awake? One blue eye squinted at the clock. Why was she awake at this bloody time?

A second later, she realized an insanely annoying beeping was the cause. Groping for the wand that was never out of reach, she swiped it at the alarm clock of doom. It flew across the room to hit the opposite wall with a jarring crash.

"Five."

She spun around, briefly aiming her wand at the person in the doorway before she tumbled off the bed, rolled in the sheets.

"Five of my alarm clocks you've destroyed in five years," Cooper continued.

"Don't get such bloody annoying alarm clocks." Standing in the doorway of his bedroom in nothing but his pants, he held two steaming mugs. She accepted one with muted gratitude as she slipped past him.

Tonks frowned at the mess that was still scattered across the living room. Glass bottles and empty food cartons mixed with tapes on the table and even the floor. A blanket and pillow were still draped across the sofa, which confirmed her suspicion that Cooper had put her in his bed when she fell asleep and taken the sofa for himself. The git. How many times had she told him she didn't mind? It appeared she was destined to surround herself with noble Gryffindors.

She started some toast and bacon, contemplating her day as she did. She would undoubtedly get caught in the Auror Office, so it would probably be best if she went to the archives first.

"Mmm, is that bacon I smell?" Cooper came back, freshly showered and dressed.

"Honey, your breakfast is ready!" Tonks made a show of laying a plate of bacon sandwiches in front of him, refilling his coffee, and fetching the _Daily Prophet_ from the door to place next to his plate.

"Goodness, my darling, this looks too delicious to eat. And what do you have planned for today, dear?"

"Ever so much. First I'm headed to the market to pick up a roast for you tonight, and then Mary and I will meet at Armani to buy new gloves. After that it's bridge at the Smiths' for tea, and of course I'll be home in time to take your coat off."

They shared a laugh, and the act was abandoned when Tonks casually snatched a sandwich out of his hands and perched herself on the table.

"Do you mind?" Cooper said in a mild voice. "I'm trying to eat. Could you at least get dressed?"

"I am dressed." She wore one of his oversize t-shirts. It fell nearly to her knees, which in her mind was long enough to forgo shorts.

He rolled his eyes.

After breakfast Tonks pretended to fix his invisible tie and hand him a briefcase. "You'll be along shortly, then?" he asked, grabbing his real bag.

"Yes, as soon as I clean and shower. I want to be finished and back at Hogwarts by dinner."

His mouth twisted in a smile. "For someone who repeatedly complains about how boring it is there, you are always in a hurry to return. Oh, but it's not the turrets and staircases you seek, it's green eyes and black hair, isn't it?"

"Are we going to do this now?" Tonks demanded, hand on her hip, her ire awakened. "No, go on."

He looked at her for a long time before dropping his bag and sighing. "Harry's a nice kid."

"He's hardly a kid."

"He's sixteen. You call Sam a kid all the time, and he's older than you."

"That's because he's shorter than me and looks like he's twelve. Harry … he's Harry. I rarely think twice about his age." Tonks couldn't remember the last time they'd had a fight. He was the last person she expected to raise this objection. "That's it? You don't think I should see Harry because of his age?"

"I didn't say you shouldn't see Harry. You fancy him, he fancies you …"

"Then what are you trying to say? 'Harry's a nice kid.'" She deepened her voice, and he scowled. Like most people, Cooper disliked being mocked.

"I'm saying he's nice, and he's good, and it would be a shame if he were hurt."

She took a step back, throwing her hands up. "Oh, here we go. I'm the big bad cradle robber looking for an innocent schoolboy to corrupt. What do you think I'm going to do – shag him and then toss him in the rubbish? Doesn't anyone believe that not only can Harry take care of himself, but maybe I'm in it for more than a good time?"

"Merlin's unkempt beard." He stared at her again. "You're in love with him. Don't shake your head like that, yes you are, and any fool can see he thinks you're the greatest thing since Quidditch. You are walking on a tightrope, Tonks, and the ground is so very far below you."

"Don't you dare talk to me about love," she snapped, shaking her head in disbelief. "You, Coop, of all people … don't lecture me on this."

He moved forward, cupping her face in his large hands. "You are my _best_ friend," he told her, barely above a whisper. "I've seen you hurt, and I can't bear it. Tonks, I –"

She held his gaze for longer than she should have. "I know."

**oOo**

Burke arrived precisely at ten. The young Auror trainee assigned to guard the back door was startled and would have stunned the former shop owner had Tonks not happened to be outside.

She clapped the trainee on the shoulder as she followed Burke inside. "Good instincts, mate."

Cooper waited inside with the contract. Duly signed, he then performed the binding spell on Burke, a less severe variant of the Unbreakable Vow that nevertheless worked admirably in preventing unwanted disclosure of sensitive information.

"Here's the deal," Tonks began without preamble as soon as those matters were finished. "We have strong evidence that Borgin was working with a student at Hogwarts under Voldemort's orders. We know he was told to keep something safe here in the store, and we believe that whatever that item is, there is a matching piece currently at Hogwarts. And we think that piece is – or was – broken." She handed a few sheets of parchment to Burke. "Something sold from this store has already found its way to Hogwarts, where it nearly killed a student."

"Ah, yes, the opal necklace," Burke mused, barely above a whisper. "Took the lives of nineteen hapless Muggles, very rare. Would be the centerpiece of any collection."

"At the moment it's the centerpiece in a DMLE evidence vault," Tonks snapped, annoyed by his dismissal of Muggles on top of his admiration for deadly jewelry.

"Pity."

"Mr. Burke, that necklace was almost responsible for the death of an innocent girl," Cooper interjected.

Burke raised one eyebrow. "On the contrary, Auror Cooper, the necklace is an inanimate object. It is unable to hold responsibility. The fault lies in the user. When one does not respect the power of something as valuable as this necklace, one does not deserve to have it."

"She was under the Imperius curse, you –" A swift elbow to her side cut her off. She changed tactics, trying to moderate her tone, but it just came out sarcastic instead of snappish. "Mr. Burke, why are you helping us, if that is in fact what you're doing? You clearly have no qualms about the sale or use of what is undeniably a Dark artefact."

"You bright-eyed, gung-ho Ministry lackeys have never understood what you call 'Dark' artefacts. The beauty lies in the object itself, in the clever crafting of complex spells, not its use." His voice grew hoarse. "There are two types of people in this business: those that seek power, and those that seek beauty. My wife and I were of the latter."

His wife? Tonks' diggings in the Ministry archives had not revealed a wife. Now he had her attention.

"We were collectors. Before my father passed away and I assumed control of the shop, we traveled the world, seeking out only the best for our collection." He paused, but neither Auror prompted him. "Upon my father's passing, I returned to find that Borgin was increasingly becoming the former. It was no matter. A Borgin and a Burke founded the store, and we each held fifty percent ownership. I thought I could keep him in check. We worked together with little strife until the summer of 1981. As He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rose to power, Borgin sought to join his side, but I dissented. Therefore he went behind my back, allowing the so-called Death Eaters access to our goods. On the first of October my wife stayed late, completing an inventory check. I was in search of a present for her birthday and left. The Death Eaters came. She resisted. They killed her."

"I'm so sorry," Cooper murmured.

It wasn't clear if Burke heard him. He fixed his beady eyes on Tonks. "Auror Tonks, you ask why I help. I care not who wins this struggle. I care not about Harry Potter. I care only for the life of the person who took what was mine." He removed his gaze from hers. "Alastor Moody assisted me in discovering it was Rabastan Lestrange who murdered my wife. Shortly afterward, he was sent to Azkaban, out of my reach. I sold my shares to Borgin and left the country. Only when news of Lestrange's escape reached my ears did I return. Moody sought me out several months ago. For the moment our aims run alongside each other, and thus I will assist you in whatever you ask. All I seek is Lestrange."

Cooper frowned, and Tonks could sense his disapproval. She didn't much care for his single-minded quest for revenge either, but war made for strange bedfellows, and Burke could be a valuable resource if he would just do it already.

"Okay then," she said, making a snap call. "If we find Lestrange, he's yours. Either of them, actually, but Bellatrix is mine. And in the meantime, you'll help us search the store."

He nodded curtly. Cooper produced a sheath of parchment. "We compiled a complete inventory of the store. I'd like you to look it over and let me know if you find something interesting."

Burke didn't speak, but Tonks got the impression that were he the eye-rolling type, he would have done so. Merlin, he had an attitude. "We're grasping at straws, we know. But you're our best help. Look for something that comes in pairs, that work some distance apart, and that each piece is equally important. Borgin was told to keep the piece here safe."

His eyes roamed down the list, occasionally murmuring comments such as "interesting" and "lovely" and "indeed." Perfectly unhelpful, in Tonks' opinion. "I see several things that could fit your qualifications," he finally said. "None in particular stand out."

Tonks and Cooper exchanged a look. "There is one more thing," her partner said. "Come with me." He led them to the cabinet in the front room. "This appears to be an ordinary storage cabinet, albeit rather ornate. We've cast as many revealing and detection spells as we know, but there appear to be no spells on it. However, on two separate occasions, I have opened this previously empty cabinet to find something inside, once a rotten apple and once a dead bird."

Borgin studied the cabinet. "Curious. Very curious." He traveled around the cabinet, touching it with one yellowed fingernail. "This was not here during my tenure, but had I come across one, if it is indeed what I suspect, rest assured I would have sought it most dearly."

"What is it?" Tonks asked impatiently.

"Given what Auror Cooper said, I believe it to be a vanishing cabinet."

"As if it has a permanent vanishing spell on it?" asked Cooper.

"No. 'Vanishing' is a misnomer. They are rare and expensive but were much sought after during the years of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I suppose you are too young to remember the fear during that time."

Cooper shrugged, but Tonks said, "My mum was always afraid her sister would come after us. In their house there's a secret compartment in a wardrobe in the guest room, heavily warded. I was taught to hide there if anything ever happened."

Cooper was surprised. "You never told me that."

Her turn to shrug. "You never asked."

"Vanishing cabinets took that idea one better. If attacked, one could go inside and immediately transport to the other, which could be quite some distance away. Most effective."

"So you're saying they create some sort of … portal? A method of travel?" The implications were so heady that Tonks leaned against the cabinet itself for support. _Bloody hell._ If the mate was in Hogwarts …

Cooper, too, stared at the cabinet with unease. "Is there a way to know for sure? We cast all the spells we know."

"A vanishing cabinet is not a mere piece of furniture with a charm. The magic is placed upon it during manufacture," Burke said with authority. "There seems to be a simple test. If Auror Tonks will remove herself …"

He opened the door to the empty, innocuous-looking interior and pointed his wand. "_Avis_." A flock of twittering yellow birds appeared, and he shut the door before any could escape. Several loud screeches echoed through the store before being abruptly cut off.

It was with some trepidation that Tonks opened the door. All that remained of the birds were a few forlorn feathers. No one spoke for a few minutes. Part of Tonks wanted to be triumphant; this was the break they needed. A much larger part was horrified; in the wrong hands and the wrong place (as in the very situation they found themselves), many people could be in danger.

"It's at Hogwarts," she realized aloud. "The bloody mate to this cabinet is at Hogwarts. That's why he had to keep it safe – Death Eaters are going to invade Hogwarts."

"We'll have to find the other to make sure," Cooper said distractedly. "And if it's in the room you think it is –"

"Oh, it's much easier than that." Tonks opened the door again and stepped forward, spinning to face them. "We just have to try it out."

"No!" Cooper yelled, but it was too late. Tonks shut the door. There was a brief scream, and then silence.

**oOo**

A few hours later and many miles away, Draco Malfoy felt his stomach churn as he stared in dismay at the broken vanishing cabinet. On the floor were several dead birds and one black boot.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: This will most likely be the last chapter from me in 2012. I hope all my readers have a fantastic holiday season & a wonderful New Year's. See you all next year!


	23. Occlumency

**Author's Note: **The beginning of this chapter runs concurrently with chapter 22. Also, happy 2013!

* * *

><p><strong>Occlumency<strong>

_Harry –_

_Although I shall be out of the castle, please proceed to my office this Saturday at our regular time._

– _Professor Dumbledore_

Harry blinked at the note, delivered by Hedwig, and shoved it in his pocket. Might this be the mysterious Occlumency lessons at which he'd hinted? While he was curious to see who Dumbledore had employed for this, he was reluctant at best for the lessons themselves. He'd already proven to be pants at Occlumency.

What he was far more curious about was what the Headmaster was doing. Harry hadn't seen him at the staff table in several days, and the fact that he now knew what his disappearances meant only increased his interest. Every day gone was another day he could have destroyed a Horcrux, thus one step closer to defeating Voldemort.

No. Not defeating Voldemort. One step closer to making him mortal again. Harry (or someone, but Harry truly wanted it to be himself) still had the nearly-insurmountable task of defeating him in combat.

For reasons he couldn't quite explain even to himself, Harry had yet to tell anyone about the Horcruxes, Dumbledore's advice notwithstanding. He was still wrapping his head around it, and until he formulated a plan of his own, he wasn't going to mention it. Just because he was back on good terms with Dumbledore didn't mean he was content to let him take the reins.

When Saturday night rolled around, Harry slipped out of the busy common room and made his way unmolested to Dumbledore's office. The door was slightly ajar, so he pushed it open without knocking.

"Alright, Harry?"

"Cooper?" he replied, beyond surprised. "Er, hi."

The tall Auror looked amused, sitting in one of two chairs in front of the professor's desk. He gestured for Harry to take the other.

"_You're _going to give me Occlumency lessons?" Harry blurted.

"If you want. If not, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore can find someone else."

"No, you're fine," Harry rushed to say, but Cooper's easy smile didn't look offended. "Just surprised is all."

"So was I when Professor Dumbledore owled, but here I am." He waved his hand at the seat again. "Go on, sit. No matter what Tonks tells you, I don't bite. Right, Harry, there are two things we need to make clear before we start." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "One, I need you to trust me. The tenser you are, the harder this will be. I'm going to be in your head, Harry, and until you learn how to keep me out, I'm going to see things. And that brings me to two: what happens in these lessons stays in these lessons. No one knows about them except Professor Dumbledore. I'm not going to tell a soul, not even Tonks, and no one will hear of what I see. Understand?"

Slowly Harry nodded. He knew Tonks trusted Cooper, and that should be enough for him. At the same time, he was understandably apprehensive. _Better than Snape, _he told himself.

"There's one more thing, Harry."

Harry subdued a noise of frustration. Were they going to talk their way through the lesson? "Yeah?"

"If you don't want to do this, we won't, no matter what Dumbledore says." Cooper shrugged. "If you're only here because Dumbledore told you, then we're wasting both our time. This isn't like learning a summoning charm or transfiguring a teacup. This is your mind. Unless you actually want to, you'll never learn Occlumency. You can't close off a mind that is shut off, if that makes any sense."

Harry thought back to his dreadful lessons with Snape. Had that been his problem all along, his antagonism toward not only the teacher but the person who'd sent him there, Dumbledore himself? Hadn't Snape said initially that Harry's prowess at learning the Patronus Charm should prove helpful? Then he pondered learning Occlumency. He thought about the false vision of Sirius and its life-altering consequences, of his temper that increasingly seemed to be a completely different person altogether. He found himself nodding before he was aware of it.

"Yes," he said with the same determination he showed in training with Tonks or Quidditch matches. "I want to learn Occlumency."

Cooper grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that. Okay: find someplace comfortable in the office, whether it's in this chair, leaning against a wall, or even stretched out on the floor. It's important, to begin with, that you're relaxed. I suspect, or at least I hope, that part of the reason Professor Dumbledore asked me is because you and I are friends. And because I'm supremely talented."

Harry laughed as he chose the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Naturally."

"Of course," Cooper agreed in that easy manner he possessed. "Now close your eyes, and imagine the place in which you are most comfortable."

Harry thought about that for a moment. He'd always been able to forget his problems when he was on a broom. Even facing a dragon had been less daunting in flight. "I'm on –"

"No, no need to tell me. In fact, it's probably better if you don't. Now imagine some sort of border around your place – walls, a fence, something of that sort. Best if it's natural."

He was on a broom, so he was on a Quidditch pitch, and a pitch usually had stands all around. There. That was his border. "Okay," he said, still keeping his eyes closed.

"Good. Now, Harry, think of ways you would keep anyone from entering your space. This can be magical, physical, both, whatever you want."

His first instinct was to go for walls, but he countered that thought with a magical shield. Then, feeling a bit silly about arguing with himself over an imaginary world, he placed walls all around, like the stadium at the Quidditch World Cup. He 'reinforced' his walls with imperturbable and unbreakable charms, then 'cast' a shield all around. Harry nodded, then realized Cooper might have his eyes closed as well. "Okay."

"Alright, then. This is your world, and your world is your mind. If someone tries to enter, you keep them out as best you can. Not actually, don't go sending hexes at me, but you in your world in your mind. Are you ready?"

"Er, I suppose. Should I open my eyes?"

"No. Eye contact aids legilimancy, so why would you make it easier for me?"

This couldn't be more different from Snape's lessons if they tried. "Okay."

"Good. _Legilimens._"

Harry experienced a surge of remembered panic at the familiar word and hastily tried to close his mind. He _felt_ another in his head, and then –

Ripper, attempting to jump up the tree Harry in which Harry was hiding.

His parents smiling down at him in the Mirror of Erised.

Moaning Myrtle floating around –

The presence was removed, and Harry reeled, taking deep breaths. He opened his eyes to see Cooper gazing at him with concern.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine."

"Right. If you're sure, we'll keep going. Right now we're going to focus on pushing me out before we move to blocking me entirely. As soon as you feel me inside your head, find my location. It's like … searching for the answer for an exam. When you know it's there, it's almost as if you're chasing it down, right? Chase me down, and kick me out."

Again and again Cooper penetrated Harry's mind. He was gentle, and it was never without warning, but the repeated invasions left Harry wearied. However, the flipside was that he was almost becoming used to it, and that helped to assuage his knee-jerk reactions. Cooper assured him that was a good sign. By the end, Harry could at least realize someone else was there and even locate him before he broke Harry's meager defenses and memories poured out like a leak in a dam.

"I think that's enough for now," Cooper said after they emerged from another slideshow of memories, ending with Harry tied to a tombstone. "That last one, that was the graveyard where –"

"Yeah," Harry cut him off, rubbing his aching head. His scar throbbed fiercely, and if last year's Occlumency lessons were a precedent, he'd have nightmares all night long.

"How do you feel?"

"Exhausted."

The Auror smiled. "I'm sorry, but that's to be expected. Actually, I meant how do you feel about the lessons. Is this something you want to continue?"

"Yes, absolutely." Harry surprised himself with his vehemence. It all went back to Sirius; he was determined to never be so manipulated again.

"Good man." Cooper rose. "I'll be in touch. Practice visualizing your mental shields."

"Are you staying here?"

"No. Professor Dumbledore set up a special one-off Floo connection so I come directly here from my flat." He gestured at the fireplace.

"Isn't that rather dangerous? If it was discovered, anyone could use it."

Admiration crossed Cooper's face. "Good point, Harry. Yes, it could, but as I said, it's a one-off. Dumbledore set it up himself. Only two Floo uses and it's time-locked as well. But still, very clever to notice that. Tonks says you want to be an Auror. Those instincts will serve you well."

"Thanks." Harry stopped with one hand on the door. "And thank you for the lessons, too. I know you're very busy."

He waved a hand in dismissal. "Not a problem. You did well. I know it doesn't seem like it yet, but you did. Take my word for it. And Harry?" He placed one finger alongside his nose.

Harry nodded and left, optimistically cheerful despite his lingering headache. Everything seemed to be falling into place. Now all they needed was definitive proof of Malfoy's job from Voldemort and his status as a Death Eater.

**oOo**

He was in the Forbidden Forest. Something seemed off; it wasn't entirely like he remembered from his last trip. Following the light emanating from his wand, Harry continued forward over a small rise into a clearing, and then his scar exploded with a million white-hot needles pressed into it. The hooded figure looked up from the unicorn, its mouth dripping with blood …

The hard tombstone chafed at his back. Voldemort approached, the black robe fluttering about his body like the wings of a moth. One thin white finger was raised, and then he pressed it against Harry's scar, sending an eruption of pain more than equal to the Cruciatus Curse through Harry's body. Harry was screaming and Voldemort was laughing, laughing, laughing …

He laid on the floor in the ruined Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, joined with a red-eyed creature. Harry was Voldemort and Voldemort was Harry, and together they begged for Dumbledore to kill him. Sirius was gone and it hurt and Harry wanted everything to stop …

He stood in the bathroom at the Tonkses', motionless, as Tonks left. She had kissed him, she liked him, she wasn't saying 'no' anymore. And then just as quickly as the elation rose in his chest, it fled, replaced with a surging anger. Gripping the sink under his hands, Harry leaned forward, staring at his scar. He blinked, and for the briefest second, his green eyes shone red out of the mirror, and he was screaming, screaming …

Harry woke with a start, clammy to the touch. The dream began to recede immediately, and he was more than content to let it slip away. A dream. That was all. A dream. He'd had dozens of them in the past, and it didn't mean anything. He gazed into the darkness of his curtained four-poster for a long time before sleep reclaimed him, and when he woke again in the morning, he didn't remember a thing.

**oOo**

"Thick-headed, reckless, impulsive, impertinent, disobedient, foolish …"

Cooper fumed as he paced back and forth in a corridor in St. Mungo's. He'd been holding back for the entire time it took to find Tonks (which was far longer than he liked), rush her to hospital, and then stared at her door from outside until he received reassurance that she was going to recover.

"What are you doing?" Jason asked.

"Rehearsing for when I get my hands on that girl. I'm going to – to shake her, and yell, and tell her what a complete fool she was. Ridiculous, stupid …"

"Why don't you tell us how you truly feel?"

"As if he'll do anything besides kiss her feet and give her that 'I'll do anything for you' puppy dog look," remarked Sam with unusual acidity.

"No one is going to do anything," Alex said sternly. "We're going to wait until she's up to talking, and then she's going to tell us what, if anything, she discovered about that cabinet. If your theory is correct, Cooper, there is a serious security breach at Hogwarts." He gazed in turn at Sam and Cooper. "There will be no teasing, and the time for reprimand will be later, at which time I, as team leader, will do at my discretion. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," all three muttered.

"I understand, Bear, but I'm her partner, too," Cooper protested, choosing his words and tone carefully. Alex normally ran a relaxed team, but there was never any doubt as to the chain of command. "She needs to understand she cannot make and act on decisions like this on her own."

"Tonks, take orders? Now there's a feat," Jason commented, not quelling under Cooper's glare.

"You had better –"

"Damn it, that is enough!" Alex barked. "We're a team, and one of ours is laying in a hospital bed. Whatever the reason she's there, us bickering does no good and I won't have it any longer. Auror Cooper, over here. Now."

Shooting a glance at Tonks' door, which still hadn't opened, Cooper followed his team leader down the corridor until they were out of earshot of the other two. He tried to get a grip on himself as they went. He was normally very in control of his emotions, as befit an interrogator, but there was something about Tonks that could send him into a spiral.

When Alex spoke, his tone was surprisingly gentle. "I know you're upset, Cooper. There's not a soul in the department doesn't know how you feel about her except the woman in question." Cooper had a few things he could say to that, but he kept quiet. "But you must calm down. Quite frankly, if I were doing my job correctly, I would have split you up long ago and sent one of you to another team."

"Alex –" Cooper began heatedly.

"Shut it. I haven't, have I? You work too well together for me to do that. But the point is that you both have crossed the line in the past, and if you continue to do so, the decision to dissolve your partnership will be made above my head. Aurors need trust, confidence, and respect in each other, but you're far too emotionally involved. You're her partner. You have to be the one to let her make mistakes and to send her into dangerous situations. You can't do that if you're always hovering about her like a protective boyfriend, and you'll never make Senior Auror, much less team leader. And you're too good to be wasted. So quit running off at the mouth and popping off to your teammates, and for Merlin's sake try to find some professionalism." He paused. "Can I give you some personal advice, Cooper, man to man?" Cooper looked into his dark, honest eyes and nodded. "Be honest with her. And whatever her response is, deal with it. This shit has gone on long enough."

_If only it were that easy_, Cooper thought darkly. Alex had no idea the truth behind the matter.

When they returned, Ted and Andromeda were leaving her room. "She's awake and asking to be released," Andromeda said, giving him a hug. "And she wants to see you."

"Five minutes," the Healer warned. "No matter what she says, she needs her rest."

Cooper wasted no more time. Only when he barreled into the room did he remember Alex's lecture, and he forced himself to slow, giving her a cheerful smile. The Metamorphmagus pushed herself up in the bed, her sickly complexion reinforced by the hospital gown and brown hair. She hated brown hair, which proved just how worn she was.

"Wotcher," Tonks said in an overly loud voice, as if proving just how 'fine' she was. "Did you miss me?"

"You –" Cooper began in exasperation before catching Alex's eye. "Yeah," he said instead. "You scared us."

All four filed in, taking seats around her bed. When Tonks reached for his hand, Cooper squeezed it.

"Do you feel up to telling us what happened?" Alex said.

She nodded. "You won't bloody believe this." She paused, and Cooper wondered if her wan expression was due to her physical state or her findings. "We were right."

**oOo**

"It's cloudy, so that will prevent sun glare, but it's also windy, so make sure you take that into account, especially you chasers. Right. Is everyone ready?"

The assorted faces of Harry's Quidditch team asserted themselves in a variety of ways, all looking much less nervous than they had the previous match. Except for Cormac MacLaggen, who merely seemed bored. Harry made a note to keep an eye on him. He'd returned rather subdued after Ginny's bat-bogey attack, and although flashes of his typical arrogance occasionally shone through, Harry didn't believe this submissive act for a second.

"None of Hufflepuff match us in any way. Put this one away, and only Ravenclaw stands in the way of the Cup. It already has our names on it. Now let's go! Two laps around the pitch before taking your positions. Ginny, you go for the quaffle."

Harry grabbed Dean's arm as everyone filed out. "Be prepared to go in for keeper," he said quietly. "I know it's not your normal position, but you're better than Gavin, and I don't trust MacLaggen."

Dean followed the burly keeper with his eyes. "Yeah, fine. I don't like him, either."

Katie was the last one left when Harry emerged from the locker rooms. "Alright, Katie?"

She flashed a grin. "Alright? I'm brilliant. See you on the pitch!" As she kicked off, Harry decided that was the most she'd looked like herself since returning to Hogwarts.

He was the last to take off. He took his first warm-up lap at breakneck speed, trying to settle any lingering nerves, and his second at a more leisurely pace. He waved at Parvati, Lavender, and Hermione in the stands. Ron and Neville were watching the Room of Requirement, armed with Harry's cloak and the Marauder's Map, in case Malfoy took advantage of the empty castle again. With any luck, they'd manage to get inside the room while it was occupied. Ron had jumped at the opportunity; Harry suspected he was uncomfortable at being reduced to a mere Quidditch spectator, even if it was of his own volition.

He waved at Hagrid as well in the staff section, but his arm fell halfway through. Tonks wasn't there, _again_. He knew she was planning to meet with Burke at his former store the night before, but she had promised she would watch him play. Just like last time. And she wasn't here. Just like last time.

Pushing away his disappointment, Harry navigated his broom into position, high above the others. His team were all in their correct places, and Madam Hooch approached with the quaffle. Zacharias Smith, Hufflepuff seeker and captain and someone Harry didn't care for much personally even if he had been part of the DA, hovered opposite him.

"Alright, Smith?" Harry called, keeping one eye on the quaffle. Smith grunted. "Is that your sister in the left stands?" Madam Hooch threw the ball, and Ginny dove for it. "Naked?"

Smith spun around, nearly falling off his broom at Harry's words, and Harry took off, chortling to himself. That would buy him a few precious early seconds of advantage. Unless Gryffindor needed to be a certain number of points above the opposing team (which they did not today, they simply had to win), his goal was to catch the snitch as soon as possible.

Ginny had seized the quaffle and sped toward the Hufflepuff goal, tossing it back and forth with Katie. Harry began his search – the stands, the goalposts, the other players, bare sky – anywhere on and around the pitch the snitch could be. All it took was one glint of gold.

As he searched, the events of the game came in and out of focus like a badly tuned telly. Katie had the quaffle ... a Hufflepuff player dropped it and Demelza swooped in ... "Alright, Harry?" Jimmy shouted as he chased down a stray bludger ... Ginny took a shot but the Hufflepuff keeper managed to just knock it away with the tips of his fingers ... "... of a Nargle infestation on the pitch," came Luna Lovegood's voice over the commentary.

That earned Harry's attention. Who thought it was a good idea to let Luna commentate? McGonagall sat next to her, wearing a clear expression of regret.

Remembering his duties as captain, Harry swooped down toward the fray. The scoreboard showed 30–0 Gryffindor, so everyone seemed to be doing their job. He cast a wary look at MacLaggen just in time to see him easily block the middle goal. Of course, given his size, all he really had to do was hover in place. He passed the quaffle to Ginny without so much as a sneer or instructions on how to do something she knew perfectly well. Huh.

Satisfied, Harry returned to his original spot. Smith crisscrossed the sky, no closer the finding the snitch than Harry. He scowled as their paths crossed, and Harry sniggered.

30–10, 50–10, 60–30 ... the score climbed as the snitch remained elusive. Twice Harry caught glimpses of it, but it disappeared as soon as he and Smith threw themselves on breakneck chases. The weather remained cool, but sweat began to roll down his back under his robes. 90–50 ... he spotted a glint of gold but it was merely Ritchie's wristwatch – no. He'd banned his players from wearing watches for that very reason.

Harry spun so quickly it was as if the Firebolt did a pirouette. There! Another flash in front of the Ravenclaw stands. He flattened himself on his broom, tunnel vision narrowed to that tiny, fluttering ball of gold. Students screamed as he barreled toward them, no apparent sign of stopping, but just when he was close enough to make out their eyes he yanked his broom upward, following the snitch.

He was vaguely aware that Smith had joined in the chase; the crowd began to cheer and shout. Left, right – bludger! Harry threw himself into a barrel roll to avoid it, never taking his eyes off his target. If the game around him had stopped for everyone to watch the race, he wouldn't have noticed. Right, right, right so hard he felt his fingers would be permanently curled from gripping so tightly … Smith was on his tail … a sudden dive that left his stomach far behind … he'd have to brake with everything he had to avoid crashing … almost there, hand outstretched –

Harry reeled from a momentary pain in his left arm. Smith had crashed into him, preventing his capture. Harry cursed under his breath as he regained sight of the snitch, not even sparing time for an angered glare. He'd have his chance after he won the game.

"… colliding with the Gryffindor snitch-catcher, an accident, I'm sure. I can't see any Wrackspurts from this distance but perhaps he's suffering from Loser's Lurgy …"

Up and down and side to side and a circle around the Gryffindor goalposts, the snitch seemed to be putting up a particularly fierce battle. He threw himself into another dive … closer and closer … almost straight down now, balance was becoming difficult … the wind rushed through his hair and made his eyes water … Harry strained to keep his eyes on the snitch, leaning further and further off his broom … he could almost make out the blades of grass …

_Just a bit more …_ and his hand closed around it, and the ground rushed up to meet him, and everything went black.

**oOo**

He woke in the Hospital Wing. Not an uncommon occurrence. His teammates, plus several classmates, gathered around him.

"Move, move," Madam Pomfrey chided irritably as she shooed the students out of the way, making her way to Harry's side. "Honestly, this is _not_ the common room … how do you feel, Potter?"

He rubbed his hand, flexing his limbs experimentally. "Sore, but fine."

She nodded like that was what she expected. "No broken bones this time, thank goodness, just some bruising. Stay and rest for a few hours, and if all is well, I'll allow you to leave after dinner." She turned around. "Ten minutes, you lot, and then everyone out."

"We won, right?" Harry said immediately as they crowded around his bed.

"Of course," answered Ginny, Dean's arm draped over her shoulders. "250–80, and Smith pouted all the way back to the locker rooms."

Harry grinned.

"Did you _hear_ Loony Lovegood's commentary?" Seamus sniggered. "What the hell is 'Loser's Lurgy' anyway?"

"I didn't think she was that awful," Neville protested, albeit quietly. "She was … funny."

"Where's MacLaggen?" Harry asked, cutting off further criticism. He thought some – okay, most – of Luna's ideas were the very definition of weird, but she was a good friend. He didn't really care if MacLaggen was there, but the hulking keeper's absence was conspicuous amongst the other members of the team.

Demelza shrugged. "We changed and he took off. Good riddance, I say. Ron, are you sure you won't come back?"

Ron's ears went pink, and he muttered something unintelligible.

"We should go," Katie said reluctantly. "Madam Pomfrey's about to start breathing down our necks."

They filed out, praising Harry's performance and giving him good wishes. Hermione was the last to leave, squeezing his hand. When the door shut behind her, the matron came over and handed Harry a goblet of pumpkin juice he was sure was spiked with something to make him sleep.

"Here you go, Potter. Drink up and get some rest. And do try to stay on your broom from now on, won't you?"

Harry grinned as he lifted the goblet to his mouth. "But then you'd never see me."

"I'm sure you'd find a way," she said wryly. "Now drink. And rest."

He was asleep nearly as soon as he finished the juice.

When he woke up, the room was dark, though voices and a light came from Madam Pomfrey's office. He shifted gingerly, but all lingering soreness had dissipated with sleep.

Her office door opened, and Professor Dumbledore stepped out. "Ah, Harry! I hope we did not interrupt your slumber."

"No, sir."

"How do you feel, Potter?"

"Better," he told the mediwitch. "I'm fine, I swear."

She waved her wand over him a few times, apparently satisfied with the results. "Very well. Your clothes are there on the table. You may change and go."

She returned to her office, and the Headmaster approached. "That was an unpleasant collision, Harry."

"All in the name of Quidditch, sir."

"Yes, I understand it is a win or die situation, although I was never a participant myself. Fascinating match, however. Well played. I shall leave you to return to your dormitory, then. Until next week."

"We aren't having our meeting this week, sir?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Even Merlin took a day off, Harry. Your classmates are sure to be waiting to celebrate your win. Next week."

He, too, departed, and Harry quickly changed, eager to be out of the bed he had spent so much time in over the last six years. The walk back to Gryffindor Tower was quiet; the students must still have been at dinner. Arriving in his empty dormitory, he fetched the Marauder's Map from where Ron had left it in his trunk with vague thoughts of checking to see if Malfoy was in the Room of Requirement. The action was almost second nature by now, but he found his gaze drifting to the staff corridor, to Tonks' quarters.

And there he stared. A dot marked 'L. Cooper' paced her room. He was swallowed by a wave of jealousy. His scar burned fiercely. Tonks had skipped his match to be with Cooper. Her _friend_. Isn't that what she had said a dozen times?

As he stared, he began to realize the dot was alone, meaning Cooper was alone, meaning Tonks wasn't there. Where was she? Why was he waiting in her quarters for her? Tired of unanswered questions, Harry made a sudden decision.

He swept down the still-empty corridors in his invisibility cloak, paying no mind to ghost or ghoul until he arrived at the familiar door and knocked.

Cooper answered almost immediately, and Harry tugged the cloak off his head, giving the Auror a start. "Harry! I was just thinking of how I could contact you without earning the attention of the castle."

"Me? Why do you need me?" Harry pushed past him into the room, looking around. "Where's Tonks? Why are you here?"

"Tonks is at St. Mungo's." Cooper rushed to continue at the look on Harry's face. "She'll be fine, I promise. Already plotting her escape. She sent me here, actually, to talk to you. We, er, she, really, has discovered something. You'll want to hear this."


	24. Arrest

**Arrest**

Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower like a man possessed. He couldn't seem to form a complete, rational thought. Tonks wounded, Death Eater access to Hogwarts, and at the center of it all, Draco Malfoy. It always came back to him.

"Alright, Harry?" Colin Creevey greeted him as he slipped through the portrait hole. The common room was full, most students back from dinner.

"Hi, Colin. Do you know where Ron or – never mind. I see him."

Ron sat in a cushy armchair near the fire, Lavender in his lap.

"Do you know where Hermione is?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head, but Lavender said, "She went to her room to get a book or something."

"Would you mind getting her for me, please?"

When she was gone, Harry leaned in closer. "Can you meet me outside?"

"Sure."

"Now?"

Ron scratched his head. "But you just sent Lavender for Hermione."

"I was hoping it could be just the three of us. It's really important, Ron."

"Yeah, okay." He stood. "Tell Lav I ... had to use the loo or something."

Harry felt rather bad as Lavender sat down to await her boyfriend, but his news was more important than that. He waited until the trio had broken into an empty classroom to tell them of Tonks' discovery.

"So you see? He's creating a passage between Borgin and Burkes, and Hogwarts so Death Eaters can get inside!"

"Why would he want to get inside Hogwarts?" Ron asked. Hermione appeared, as usual, in deep thought.

"Why? Why not? Dumbledore is here, _I'm _here, Dumbledore mentioned over the summer they would want to recruit Slughorn – I can think of thousands of reasons. Hogwarts is … special to him. Always has been."

"You really understand him, don't you?"

Harry shrugged. "I suppose."

"Harry," Hermione began in that tone he knew to be 'You won't want to hear this but I'm going to say it anyway.' "You need to tell Professor Dumbledore."

"No," he said immediately and firmly. He'd already given that thought. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he spoke before she could. "I told him about Malfoy a long time ago, and all he did was dismiss it, more than once. So I went to Tonks. The Aurors know, and they've actually been doing something about it."

"It's not like they'll arrest him without letting Dumbledore know, anyway," Ron added before leaning back on his elbows against a desk, grinning. "Blimey, won't that be brilliant? I hope they do it in the Great Hall in front of everyone. Maybe he and Daddy can share a cell in Azkaban."

"Can he go to Azkaban?" Hermione asked thoughtfully. "I mean, he's not of age yet, is he? Muggles have rules for trying minors."

That stumped all. Finally Harry shrugged. "I'll ask Tonks. The point is he's finally going to be caught. All we have to do now is find a way to prove that it's Malfoy who's trying to set up the connection between the two cabinets."

"Catch him in the act," said Hermione.

"Right." Harry rose and began to head for the door. "We just need to get in the room while he's in there, and then we can catch him working on the cabinet. That'll be the proof Tonks needs, I know it."

"Easier said than done, Harry," Hermione argued. "He has Crabbe and Goyle as lookouts, and he's bound to know we're on to him after last time. We can't get in there without alerting them. Who knows what Malfoy will do then?"

Harry grimaced. As thick as Crabbe and Goyle were, even they had to know something was up when they woke hours later outside the Room of Requirement, no Malfoy in sight. And he knew Malfoy would have put together the pieces when their story didn't match with what he thought to have been his friends but were Ginny and Luna in disguise.

"What if we get inside the room before him and wait?" Ron suggested.

Harry and Hermione came to a halt, pivoting to look at their redheaded friend. Harry was the first to speak. "You are brilliant, Ron!"

He shrugged modestly, not quite keeping a grin off his face. "It's been known to happen." Harry and Hermione exchanged a quick glance. "We should get back," he continued. "Lavender will be wondering where I am."

"She'll be wondering where all your fancy jewelry is, too," added Hermione.

They bickered all the way back to the common room, but by now it was background noise to Harry. His mind worked and whirled. _If we catch him, that's still not enough. Only our word against his. But if _Tonks_ catches him, then we have him. I know it._ They were so close he could almost taste the victory. And for once, Harry pondered, he might have a quiet end to his school year.

**oOo**

Harry knew their absence would be noted if all three of them missed Sunday's study group, so he, Ron, and Hermione headed to the Transfiguration classroom the following day after lunch just as they had done every week for months. And, even if he would never say it to Hermione, the dedicated study and homework time had done wonders for his marks. They had never been better, and he felt more prepared for his upcoming exams than ever in years prior.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help glancing at the Marauder's Map, open on his lap under the table, every few minutes, hoping he wasn't missing his chance. Tonks' injury, even if not severe, had galvanized him into action. The time for waiting around was past.

"You know, people generally wank in private," came Eric, sitting next to Harry, out of nowhere.

"What – what –" Harry sputtered.

"You keep looking down at your lap."

"I'm not – it's not _that_," Harry hissed, going scarlet.

"What is it, then? What are you – " To Harry's horror, Eric leaned over and grabbed the map. "What the – shit, what –"

Harry lunged, trying to yank it out of his hands, and the Slytherin reacted violently to the intrusion, shoving Harry so hard he flipped his chair over backward and smacked his head on the floor. His ears ringing, Harry jumped up.

"Stop!" Hermione cried, stepping between them.

Harry took one deep yet sudden breath and just as quick, he forced a lid on his temper. Grabbing the map out of Eric's hands, the werewolf taut with anger, he left the room, leaving his things behind, oblivious to Ginny's call or the murmurs of the others.

What was _wrong _with him? He'd never, not even in that horrible mood in which he'd spent most of the previous year, had been able to lose his temper so easily. Now he was so flammable the least spark set him off. If he kept it up, rumors about his sanity or lack thereof would begin to circulate the school again. Just what he needed since now everyone finally believed him about Voldemort.

Harry didn't slow until he reached the stone bridge outside the Tapestry Corridor, relishing the cold air on his face. On a whim, he went through some of the mental techniques Cooper had shown him. His 'mind' was now his Hogwarts dormitory, and he went through the motions of putting everything in order, imagining two boxes labeled 'temper' and 'anger' and placing them in his trunk before relaxing on his bed. Against his expectations, it helped. Occlumency, it seemed, was more than it advertised.

Why had he reacted in such a manner, though? He'd never had a problem letting Tonks or Ron or Hermione use the map. But when Eric reached for it against Harry's wishes … he wasn't sure. All he knew was that it felt like Eric was trying to take something of Harry's, one of only two things he'd inherited, in a roundabout way, from his father. Not taking as if to borrow or glance at, which was all it truly was, but _taking_. It left him unsettled, and to top it off he'd probably ruined their precarious friendship.

He paced back and forth. Harry wanted to take it all back, to feel like he was himself again, to have control over his own mind. Harry wanted …

Tonks.

He wanted Tonks. The realization didn't so much dawn as it hit him like a brick wall. He was upset, and he wanted her to comfort him, tease him, hold him close, be that reassuring, loving person she was.

But Tonks wasn't here. Cooper had said she would be released in a day or two, but as he'd had no word, he assumed she was either still in hospital or had gone home to her parents' house, no doubt batting away Andromeda's fussing. He smiled at the thought, remembering the ideal weeks over Christmas holiday. How she laughed in the snow, how dark her eyes became when she was angry, how she sought him for comfort on New Year's –

And that settled it. He wanted Tonks and so he would wait for her, or as long as he could anyway. He knew the password to her room. But he'd only taken a few steps when he paused. To get to the staff quarters, he had to pass the Transfiguration classroom. Well, no better time to make amends.

Eric stood with Hermione, of all people, in the corridor. He tensed when Harry appeared while Hermione was pensive. That 'Is Harry still angry, I don't want to upset him further' look. A look he hated.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out as soon as he was within earshot. "You just surprised me when you pushed me is all. It was a reaction, nothing else."

Eric considered him for long moment, surly, then shrugged. "It's fine."

"And?" Hermione prompted when it was apparent neither was going to speak again.

"And what?" they said in unison.

She rolled her eyes. "Never mind."

"What was that, anyway?" Eric asked. "Some sort of map?"

"Uh …" Harry shared a look with Hermione before pulling the map out of his pocket. "Yeah. It's a map of the castle and grounds, and it's charmed to show the location of every single person. See, here we are."

"Bloody brilliant," Eric breathed, glancing over it to see Filch and Mrs. Norris pass one floor up.

"My dad and his friends made it when they were at Hogwarts."

"That's why you're touchy about it," Hermione suggested. Harry jerked his head in a grateful nod.

"I get it. Sorry about shoving you, Potter."

"Er, no harm done."

Eric looked up, narrowing his eyes. "So what were you doing, then? Spying on someone? Bit dodgy for you noble Gryffindor types, isn't it?"

"I wasn't spying on anyone!" Harry protested hotly even though that was exactly what he was doing. Showing Eric the map was one thing, but letting him in on Malfoy was another. "I was, er …"

The Slytherin grinned. "Oh-ho, I see. Looking for the Auror you aren't shagging? Or are you shagging her now?"

Hermione's eyebrows shot into her bushy hair, and she turned to Harry with a pointed glance. "No," he immediately declaimed. "Not that it's anyone's business." He couldn't hide a flush creeping up his neck as he remembered some of their more recent activities.

"Sure, Potter," Eric remarked with a knowing smirk. "Sure you aren't. Here's your map."

Harry shoved it back into his pocket. "Thanks. I think I fancy a walk, need to clear my head. Hermione, would you ask Ron to take my stuff back to the common room for me?"

"I'll take it," Eric volunteered unexpectedly before Hermione (who had yet to surrender her eyebrows back to gravity) could respond. "I mean, I can carry it to wherever the Gryffindor dorms are, and Granger can take it inside, right?"

"Um, yes, that's fine," she replied, looking as surprised as Harry. "See you later, Harry."

He sped off to the sound of Eric's sniggers. He still couldn't figure out the older boy. As quick to temper as Harry himself and touchy as they came but equipped with a dry sense of humor under the hard outer shell. And why was Hermione with him in the corridor? And offering to take Harry's things back? Perhaps, Muggle-born or not, he'd taken to Hermione since she was as yet the only other person not to regard him with suspicion, although Harry was fairly certain she was only being polite.

He dropped thoughts of any others as he grew closer to Tonks' quarters, suddenly full of doubt. If she found him waiting in her room, would she resent the intrusion, think him creepy, find it overbearing? _Stop second-guessing yourself, Potter_, he groused silently. It was time to step up with Tonks, demonstrate some assertion. And not as if she would hesitate to set him straight if she didn't appreciate his behavior.

He rounded the corner and spotted Professor Babbling stepping into her quarters. He quickly backtracked, waiting out of sight until he heard the door close. He wished he had his invisibility cloak, but it was in his bag. No good getting caught sneaking in.

He peeked again, and the coast was clear. Hers was the first door on the left. "Weird Sisters," he said quietly, tapping the door with his wand. It swung open, Harry stepped inside, and –

– found himself with a wand directly in his face.

"Harry?" Tonks said in astonishment, lowering her wand. "What are you doing here? You stalking me again, because we're really going to have to have a –"

He threw his arms around her, embracing her tightly as he dared. She was in a fluffy lime green bathrobe, her hair still wet, and he buried his face in it, smelling the citrus of her shampoo.

"Oh," she mumbled, surprised, muffled against his shoulder. "Hello, Harry. Did you miss me?" She tried to disengage, laughing, but Harry merely tightened his hold, pulling her closer until her body became willing and slack, neatly flush with his. She stroked the back of his head, murmuring, "Hey. _Hey. _Everything's okay, love. Unless –" This time she was successful in separating enough to take his face in her hands, aqua eyes searching green. "What's wrong?"

"I … had a bad day," he said slowly, too ashamed now that he was facing her to admit his lack of control.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He shook his head. "Okay. And the day's only half over, poor baby. Would you like me to kiss it and make it better?"

"Maybe," he said, smiling unconsciously.

Tonks pressed her lips to his cheek. "Better?"

"Some, but it needs the other side to even up."

She gladly complied. "Better now?"

"For now."

"Good. I'm sorry I missed your Quidditch match. Did you win?"

Harry shook his head, finally emerging from her intoxicating presence and remembering the events of the two prior days. "Why are you asking about a Quidditch match? What about you?"

"I'm asking because it's important to you, babe."

"Of course we won," he said impatiently. "It's you I care about. Are you okay? Cooper was vague." He stepped back, letting his eyes sweep over her body as if he expected to see blood dripping.

"I'm fine," she assured him before adding the not at all reassuring, "more or less."

"More or less?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

She waved him off. "So perhaps they wanted me to stay another day and we had to pull some strings. No big deal. I've a pain potion when I need it. Course, when Mum finds out she'll do her nut and send me a Howler like I'm a bloody teenager in detention, but what can you do? I have things to do."

"Dora! Would you tell me what happened, please?"

"Well, don't get your knickers in a twist." She curled up on the chesterfield in front of the fireplace, patting the seat next to her. Only when he sat and she was properly snuggled up next to him did she continue. "It was like … how do I describe it … an apparition gone terribly wrong. I felt as if I were being pulled between two places, literally being torn in half, but finally I found myself back in the cabinet. It wasn't until I stumbled out of it that I realized I'd reached the twin cabinet in the Room of Requirement, not the one I started in. I _hurt_, that's all I know, felt like my insides were rearranged and set on fire, but for some reason I thought I had to go back. The return trip was even worse; I was on the verge of blacking out when I decided to try to apparate. At that point I did pass out, but I wasn't too far off – only one alley over."

"What were you thinking?" he demanded. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," she proclaimed with a haughty look. "You've done some stupid things in your day. Don't tell me you would have done differently."

"Probably not, but I'm not a trained Auror," he conceded. "It's only because I was concerned about you that I'm not in the Room of Requirement right now. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Absolutely spiffing. Healers got everything sorted, and I'm good to go. Well, 'cept for I splinched myself, first time ever, can you believe that? Terribly embarrassing."

"You did?" Harry asked interestedly, rubbing her arm with one hand. "Susan Bones splinched herself in our last apparition lesson, and they put her back together right as new."

"It depends on how you splinch yourself and where," she said knowledgeably. "If you lose, say, an eyebrow or fingernails, it hurts, but that's it. Or if all your bits arrive at your destination, they can put you back together right quick. It's when you lose part of yourself that's the problem. Here, I'll show you."

She stood, loosening her bathrobe, and for one glorious second Harry imagined she'd be starkers underneath. She wasn't, but all that separated him from bare skin were a matching bra and knickers, bright and tantalizing.

"Down, boy, and eyes over here."

Snapping fingers yanked his gaze down to the bandage wound around her abdomen. She ran her fingers over her side, wincing slightly. "I'm growing all this back. Not the easiest thing in the world, I tell you. I'm supposed to see Madam Pomfrey for a potion, but I don't remember how often so I'm just going to wait until she finds me and pours it down my confused throat."

"Uh-huh," Harry agreed absently, losing track of what she was talking about.

"Oh, I probably should have put more clothes on, right? I'll just –" She began to pull her robe over her body.

"No, I don't mind," Harry blurted, reaching out involuntarily.

Tonks made a snorting laugh. "I bet you don't." She leaned over him, one hand on either side of his shoulders as she whispered in his ear, her voice low and husky. "What do you want, Harry?"

"I, um, I –"

Forgoing words, Harry carefully placed his hands on her waist and pulled her toward him, trying to be gentle. The moment her lips descended on his, all thoughts of being gentle flew out of his head. They kissed furiously, Tonks' body warm and soft against his as they sank down on the chesterfield. He wanted to explore every part of her, kiss and touch all over. When her lips found a certain spot on his neck, Harry couldn't help a groan. With a few touches, she could send his head spinning like the most out of control flight on his Firebolt. Emboldened by her heavy breathing, guided by soft moans, Harry ran his hands over the backs of her thighs, strong and taut as she crouched over him, hardly daring to breath when he ran over the firm curve of her arse, only a thin bit of cloth between them. He positively ached at the thought that this may finally be their moment, but Tonks removed herself, giving him a warm smile before snuggling into his side again, apparently finished with their snogging session.

And then someone knocked on the door, shattering that image.

Tonks squeaked in surprise, abruptly cut off when she slapped a hand over her own mouth. She fell off the chesterfield in a heap before scrambling to her feet and struggling back into her bathrobe, tripping over nothing in the process. For his part Harry jumped up and then stood stock still, no clue where to go.

"Not there," Tonks hissed when he opened the door of the wardrobe. He couldn't resist throwing her a look; shoes and clothes tumbled out, rendering it completely unusable as a hiding spot anyway. "Shite, shite, shite – the loo! Go to the loo!"

Standing behind the door in the dark loo, Harry had rarely felt more ridiculous. Cautious of any approaching footsteps, he pressed his ear against the door. McGonagall? Instinctively he recoiled, certain she'd figure out he was in here, but he couldn't resist listening in again. It seemed to be a simple inquiry about patrolling schedules, Harry's presence purely coincidental. He heard the door close after a few minutes, and soon Tonks appeared at the door to the loo, now fully dressed, to his disappointment.

"That was close, wasn't it?" she chirped cheerfully, nudging him out of the way so she could stand in front of the mirror, running a hand through her hair as she waved a hot-air charm over it.

"Too right."

"No worries, she didn't suspect a thing, even if I feel quite foolish. Better yet, she doesn't know anything about what happened yesterday, which is all for the best."

Harry left her to her hairstyling activities and stretched out on Tonks' bed. "Do you think they'll try to block you from arresting Malfoy?"

"We're entering a very gray area. Technically he's still a minor, but it's March so he can't be more than five months away from his birthday." She reappeared, hair dry and a shockingly lemon yellow. Harry shaded his eyes, and she laughed. "The age of criminal responsibility is ten, if you can believe that, so arresting him won't be a problem unless Dumbledore tries to stop us removing him from the school. Trying him as an adult is a different matter. We've been digging through the archives for precedents. None of this matters, however, unless we can conclusively tie him to the cabinet scheme."

"I think I can help there," said Harry eagerly. "We know how to get in the proper room, so all we have to do is catch him in the act, right?"

Tonks lay beside him, feet next to his head. "True, but he has his lookouts. We don't want to tip him off that we're on to him until we have an arrest warrant. He's bound to be suspicious enough already."

"What if we're already in the room when he shows up?"

Tonks sat straight up. "You are a bloody genius, babe. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Too busy jumping into broken vanishing cabinets?" he suggested, receiving a half-hearted smack on his leg for his efforts. "It was Ron's idea, actually."

"Was it? I'll have to thank him. Can I have your map?"

"Why?"

"I still have to do my patrols, so I can't spend all my time in the room. If I can get a sense of his habits, I can catch him."

"You mean we can catch him, right?"

He heard her sigh. "You know you can't be involved, Harry. I've walked a risky enough line as it is. One hint that I used a student in my investigation, and I could get the entire thing thrown out, probably with me alongside it."

"I'll be under the invisibility cloak," he protested. "Won't say a word. I'll do exactly as you say, I swear."

"Where I have heard that before? Oh right, on New Year's when you promptly disregarded everything I said."

"Come off it," he scoffed. "Are you still going on about that?"

"Yes." She sat up again, letting him see her serious expression. "I am. I'm going to be on about that until you understand."

He didn't. He didn't understand how practically saving her life was a bad thing. In the interest of their current conversation, however, Harry let it go for the time being. "I'm sorry, truly. But this is different. This is Malfoy – I was the one who figured out he was a Death Eater in the first place. If I hadn't told you, there would be no investigation."

"Are you saying I owe you?" she said, her tone neutral.

"I was very careful not to say that," he admitted honestly, and to his relief, she smiled.

"Git." A long pause. "Fine. But you take one loud breath, and that little scene on the chesterfield will become something you can only dream about, got it?"

"Understood."

"Good. Away with you, now. As much as I enjoy you – and I do, very much indeed – I am so tired right now. Wounded woman, remember?"

"Are you hurting?" he asked.

She shrugged. "A bit."

Harry moved so they were facing each other. "Where does it hurt?"

A smile spread across her face, and Tonks reached out to cup his cheek. "Sometimes you are so sweet I can't stand it." She tugged up her shirt to reveal her bandage again. "Here. And then here, and …"

Harry slowly worked his way up her body, kissing her pain away, but he didn't linger. Her yawns lent truth to her claims of sleepiness. They talked quietly for a few minutes, but when it was apparent she was asleep, her eyes closed and breathing deep, he kissed her temple, draped a blanket over her, and left.

**oOo**

It took a week, but Tonks finally thought she had Malfoy figured out. After dinner Friday night, Harry slipped out of the common room and met her at the Room of Requirement.

"Do you remember where it is?" he asked once they were inside the labyrinthine room.

"Vaguely. I couldn't see any walls, so it has to be closer to the middle. Look for a heap of broken chairs, a cage, and a wonky old bust. And, you know, a big cabinet."

"A big cabinet," he deadpanned. "I'll keep an eye out."

With those rather obscure directions, they fanned out. Harry kept more of an eye on the map than anything, allowing Tonks to search while he made certain they wouldn't be caught with their pants down (figuratively, not literally, in this case, not right now) by Malfoy.

Harry glanced around as he followed. He felt he could spend every day in here for the rest of term and not discover all its secrets. For every old, broken item, there was something equally strange and fascinating. Like that tiara Luna had found …

Harry spotted it high on a shelf, surrounded by broken Quidditch equipment. Not as distracted as he was the first time, his attention was piqued. Despite the dust and tarnished silver, something about the tiara spoke of power. Spoke, in fact, so loudly he could practically hear it.

_Take it._

The urge was stronger than anything Harry had ever felt, excepting only the Imperius curse. He wanted it, Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem or not, wanted it badly. He just knew something amazing would happen if he could have it. He moved closer –

"Harry!"

He started. Tonks was far down the aisle, hands on her hips. Her voice acted as scissors, severing the invisible string that drew him to the tiara. He brushed it off and continued to follow his girlfriend, checking the map.

"Found it!" she proclaimed after ten minutes, pointing to a large object covered with a dirty off-white tarp. "Now, you stay right over …" She steered Harry so far away he could barely see the cabinet. "Here. Get under the cloak, and don't move. You may want to sit down."

"Am I allowed to breathe?" he asked sarcastically.

"Do it too loudly, and you'll wish you weren't," she threatened.

Completely devoid of a playful mood for once, Tonks paced back and forth, asking Harry every other minute if he'd seen Malfoy yet. Anxiety radiated off her like light from the sun. On his part, Harry was excited more than anything. Tonight was the night. He could feel it in his bones. Months and months of waiting and scheming, and it all led to this.

Finally Harry saw movement on the map. He signaled to Tonks before sitting on the dusty floor, tucked in the recess between a desk with a broken leg and a tower of dog-eared books. He edged away from the books; it wouldn't do to nudge them accidentally. He let the cloak settle over his head before checking to make sure he was completely covered. Tonks was across the aisle, closer to the cabinet. He saw her disillusion herself and disappear completely into the shadows.

Malfoy appeared several minutes later. He was cautious, wand drawn and head pivoting in all directions like he expected unwelcome company. When he reached the cabinet, he pulled off the tarp and stared at it for a long time. Harry watched in fascination. He cast spell after spell, on the inside, on the outside, walking all around. There was much cursing and even one kick. It pleased him, for it appeared the repair of the cabinet was not going as Malfoy planned. And then it happened.

Pale and sweaty, Malfoy stood staring at the cabinet again. Almost absently, he pushed up his left sleeve and rubbed his hand over his forearm. Even from the distance, Harry could see a dark smudge on his arm in the light from his wand tip. If he could see it, Tonks had to be able to see it.

Despite his suspicions – no, his knowledge, his certainty that Malfoy was a Death Eater, the implications still shook Harry. Did he have any idea how deep he was, how there was no going back? It was lifetime service or death.

After leaning against the cabinet for a few moments, shoulders slumped, Malfoy covered it with the tarp again and left. Harry watched the three Slytherins all the way to the dungeons before he stood up on cramped legs, emerging from the invisibility cloak.

Tonks, removing her disillusionment charm, appeared just as grave and taken aback as Harry, and they finished their excursion in silence.

**oOo**

"Would you care for a drink?"

Both declined, but Professor Dumbledore poured himself a small brandy nonetheless. He waved his wand, and two cushy armchairs appeared. "Please have a seat."

"No, thank you, Headmaster," Alex said, Tonks standing behind him. "I expect you know why we're here."

Dumbledore, too, remained standing, his hands folded over his beard once he sat his drink on his desk. "I do. I beg you to reconsider, Auror Renaud. Draco Malfoy is still a child."

"Draco Malfoy is nearly the age of majority, and there is conclusive evidence that he is a Death Eater."

"If that is found to be true, have you considered the possibility that he was coerced?" Dumbledore said quietly. "Voldemort used the Imperius curse extensively in the past."

"If that's so, we have methods of determining that," replied Alex, standing his ground. "We've an official warrant signed by the Minister. Don't make this difficult, Dumbledore."

"Would you prefer I make it easy? That I assist you in removing a student from my school, a student I am sworn in my role as Headmaster of this school to protect?"

"If he's a Death Eater, you're putting all your other students at risk with each minute you allow him to roam these halls. We haven't forgotten the girl who was cursed last autumn."

"You are making a very grave mistake."

"We're professionals, Dumbledore. We take our job seriously, and we wouldn't make this accusation lightly," Alex said, his shifting stance the only sign of any impatience. He held up a scroll of parchment. "As I said, this is a warrant signed by Robards, Thicknesse, and Scrimgeour. I'm taking Draco Malfoy to the DMLE. The other members of my team are visiting his mother now to inform her."

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "Very well. I shall take you to him, but I warn you again: this will have vast consequences." He indicated for Alex to precede him out of the office. When Tonks made to follow, he placed a gentle hand on her arm to slow her progress, speaking low. "You are putting your cousin in extreme danger, Nymphadora."

"He's no cousin of mine, Professor, and I'd rather him be in danger than the entirety of the school," she replied after regaining her composure. Why in the world was the headmaster being so obdurate? He had to know they were right. He was many things, but a fool was not one of them.

He led the way to the bottom of the Left Viaduct Tower. Thankfully the castle was deserted as all students were in class. She hoped Malfoy wouldn't make a scene.

Alex and Tonks stood back while he stepped just inside the door. "Professor Slughorn, may I see Mr. Malfoy, please?"

Draco Malfoy emerged behind Professor Dumbledore, rather peaky with a sulky scowl on his face. His eyes widened when he took in Tonks and Alex.

"What's all this?" he demanded.

Alex stepped forward. "Draco Malfoy, you're wanted for questioning by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with regards to suspected Death Eater activity. I have a warrant signed by the Minister of Magic."

Even in his fair visage, the paling was noticeable. His grey eyes, always startling for Tonks to see on another face, flicked from Auror to Auror. She had the strangest sense he was both afraid and relieved. "Are you going to let them do this?" he snarled at Dumbledore. "Useless old fool."

"Come, Draco, let's not make a scene," Alex urged.

His gaze moved to his cousin. "I suppose you're enjoying this, aren't you?"

She was sure to keep her expression professionally inscrutable, though inwardly she thought, _I warned you, you idiot. Don't look to me. You had your chance._

"We'll have to walk to an apparition point," Alex said, attempting to take hold of his arm.

He jerked out of Alex's grasp. "Unhand me. I can walk, you know. You just wait until my – until my –" The struggle on his face was apparent. "– until my mother hears about this."

"I'll be surprised if she doesn't meet us there. Now let's go, lad."

Tonks glanced back at Dumbledore as they led Malfoy away. He caught her eye and shook his head slightly, looking like nothing more than a sad, disappointed teacher.


	25. Malfoy

**Malfoy**

Word of Malfoy's arrest spread like Fiendfyre even before the Daily Prophet arrived the next morning. A portrait had seen Tonks and Alex escort him out of the castle.

"I can't believe it actually worked!" Ginny gushed that evening in the Gryffindor common room.

"Why shouldn't it have? It was clear from the beginning he was working for Voldemort. All it took was someone to listen."

"What happens now?"

Harry shrugged. "A trial, I figure. It took a month to get Umbridge to trial, so who knows how long this will take."

"Sirius didn't have a trial, right?" Ron commented. "Maybe they'll chuck him in Azkaban straightaway."

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded.

"What? He's guilty, we all know that."

"He'll have a trial," Harry said quietly before their row picked up steam. "He'll already have enough sympathy because he's still a student, they'll have to give him a trial."

"Last time simply having the Dark Mark was enough reason to be sent to Azkaban," Hermione contributed. "And if they can find a way to prove he was the one who imperiused Katie, that's automatically a life sentence."

"Or if he confesses to it," added Neville.

Ron snorted. "Malfoy, fess up? That's about as likely as Snape dancing the mambo."

"No, she's right. Malfoy could confess." It had taken that for Harry to realize why he wasn't as euphoric about Malfoy's arrest as he thought he would be. "If he talks, he could get off, just like Karkaroff."

That put the pin to the balloon, and the group was momentarily quiet amidst the rowdy common room. Ron said what was on all their minds.

"Yeah, and Karkaroff died."

**oOo**

At the end of the week Harry proceeded to Dumbledore's office as had become routine. He was bursting with questions and didn't wait for the Headmaster to begin.

"What's going on with Malfoy?" he asked the moment the door shut behind him. Tonks' presence in the castle had been light since the arrest.

"We are not here to discuss Draco Malfoy, Harry," Dumbledore said, the admonition gentle but present.

Harry ignored it. "But Professor, I was right! Can't you see that now?"

"Innocent until proven guilty, Harry. We have more important things on our schedule tonight."

Harry all but gaped. As always when he grew annoyed, Dumbledore's calm gaze served to further his irritation. "That's it? You won't even admit I'm right? Never mind that Tonks and I saw the bloody Dark Mark on his arm?" He knew as soon as he said it that he shouldn't have admitted his participation, but he was past caring. If it wasn't for Harry, Death Eaters could be marching into Hogwarts any day.

"As I said, we will not discuss Draco Malfoy."

Harry took a seat, sulky despite realizing his own petulance. Dumbledore sat across the desk in his chair, and for a minute the two remained quiet.

"I do not wish you to think I do not care about the students of this school or about your desires, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "On the contrary, I care very much about both. But I believe we have more important tasks, and you need to trust that in this instance I may know better. We do not have much time remaining."

The penetrated Harry's bad mood. "Much time? Because it's almost the last term?"

"Yes, Harry." Was it his imagination, or did the Headmaster sound impossibly weary? "How are your Occlumency lessons with Auror Cooper progressing?"

Harry turned it over in his mind before responding, deciding whether or not it was worth it to push the Malfoy issue. Eagerness to get to his special lessons overrode a desire for Dumbledore to admit Harry was right, which was unlikely. "He says I'm doing good, but I haven't really done anything yet," he admitted. "I can calm myself and raise shields, but they're about as strong as parchment."

"A beginning, however weak it may appear, is a beginning." His eyes twinkled. "Am I correct in suggesting this is more than you accomplished in the sum total of your lessons last year in the same subject?"

"Yeah, just a bit."

"Very good. And your lessons with Miss Tonks?"

So they were abandoning all pretense. Very well. "Um, well she's been busy so we can't meet as much, but I've learned a lot about dueling."

"Splendid. Do continue to work hard, Harry. Now, shall we continue with our own lessons?" Harry nodded eagerly, and Dumbledore pointed at the top of a shelf across the room. "Kindly fetch that book, Harry. No, no need to get up."

Furrowing his brow, Harry drew his wand and silently summoned the book, handing it to the Headmaster, who took it and flipped through it for a few minutes while Harry waited.

"Useful, a summoning charm. One can retrieve items out of one's reach, summon objects from a distance, or simply encourage laziness." He studied his wand. "A word, _accio_, and a slight wave of a wand, and one can have any number of things in one's hand without taking a step. Do you know what _accio_ means, Harry?"

"Er, it's a summoning charm, so it means … to summon?" he guessed.

Dumbledore beamed. "Indeed. _Accio_ is Latin for to summon or to call. Many incantations that wizards use have roots in Latin, a language that is the parent of many common languages around the world. Spanish, French, Italian … not English, although one can see the influence."

"Carpe diem," Harry blurted out, completely lost as to where the conversation was going. That phrase was the only bit of Latin he knew.

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes. As such, I would like you to study not only Latin, but wand movements as well." He handed over the book Harry had summoned along with another.

They were heavy, about as much as the lurch in Harry's stomach. "You want me to learn another language?"

"I certainly do not expect fluency, but rather a greater understanding of what magic does. Any wizard can wave a wand and speak the incantation and get satisfactory results. It is in the deep comprehension that mastery lies. For example, do you know why a levitation charm requires both a swish and a flick?"

"Because Professor Flitwick said so?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah, humor. Magical in and of itself. Not to insult our more than competent Charms professor, but no, that is not why." He gestured at the books. "You shall find the answer there."

"So it's like … knowing what each ingredient in a potion does individually, instead of just knowing the list of ingredients required," Harry said slowly, thinking aloud.

"Precisely. I have attempted to introduce Latin as a required course for all students, but the board of governors has yet to agree with me. Pity. Nevertheless, it is my wish for you to study the language and its applications to magic."

"Okay." Still somewhat dumbfounded, Harry shrunk the books and placed them in his book bag. Whatever he had expected Dumbledore to teach him, it wasn't this. He looked at the Headmaster expectantly.

The unspoken request was received. "Harry, in this room we will do and discuss magic that is not normally taught at Hogwarts. I will ask that you do not share this with your classmates, nor use it unless there is a distinct need."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, as eager as a first-year for the new magic.

The hours that followed were nothing like anything like Harry had ever done at Hogwarts. Acting like a somewhat older, wiser friend rather than a figure of authority, Dumbledore spoke of magic as something infinite and mutable, able to be used and molded as one pleased. Returning to the earlier example of the summoning charm, he showed Harry how his Occlumency techniques could be used in controlling the output, direction, and strength of his magic.

"I see you, like most sixteen-year-olds, cast as strong a spell as possible," Dumbledore remarked, rather patronizingly in Harry's opinion, at his first attempt.

"I am sixteen."

"You are, and I wish that you were able to be even more," was the cryptic response he was given.

Finally the Headmaster said it was time they parted for the night. He appeared tired, rubbing his withered hand, and so Harry agreed. "What else are we going to study?" he asked.

"Oh, many things. Wandlore, detection, magic itself, as we did tonight. I expect Auror Tonks has your practical training well in hand, although we shall cover that as well. Perhaps during the summer we can arrange for Alastor Moody to take over from her."

"Really? That would be great." Harry picked up his book bag to go, but then he paused. "Professor? Can I ask you something?"

He spread his hands. "Ask me anything you like, Harry."

"How is the Horcrux search going?"

He sighed. "'Going' is a very vague term. Have I found any? No. Do I believe I am growing closer? Yes. Rest assured that I will inform you if I make a discovery."

"If you think you've found another Horcrux, can I go with you?"

The Headmaster studied him for a long moment. "Yes, you can. You have earned that right."

A determined sort of elation rose in Harry's chest. Finally, _finally_, Dumbledore was treating him as one who was as much a part of this fight as anyone, and perhaps more. That feeling carried him back to Gryffindor Tower. Along the way he thought about what Dumbledore had said in a prior meeting regarding telling others of what was, essentially, keeping Voldemort immortal. He had yet to tell anyone else about the Horcruxes, but why? It wasn't a cherished secret to be kept close to the heart. It was dangerous for the information to become too widespread, to be sure, but at the same time Harry had learned over the years that despite a strong desire to do things on his own, to keep his loved ones away from the danger that was his shadow, he couldn't do everything by himself. He'd be dead a dozen times over if not for his friends and a good dollop of luck.

He was still wrestling with the issue when he climbed through the Fat Lady's portrait hole. Instinctively he looked around for Ron and Hermione, but neither were in sight. He approached Parvati, bent over a star chart at a table alone. "Alright, Parvati?"

She looked up and smiled. "Hi, Harry."

"Do you know where Ron and Hermione are?"

She shrugged. "Out. I think Ron went off with Lavender, and I don't know where Hermione is. She's not in our dormitory."

"Oh." Harry looked around again, feeling lost. Ginny sat on the sofa with Dean; he didn't want to interrupt them. Neville … he didn't see Neville either. All his friends were busy, it seemed.

Parvati followed his search. "Harry, if you need something … we're still friends, right? I don't want things to change between us just because you don't fancy me."

He flushed, but she was right. Not all his friends were busy. Despite everything, the two had been somewhat close once, and she had proven herself a good friend. "Um, do you want to take a walk?"

Harry waited until they were in an empty stretch of hallway, no ghost or student or teacher or portrait within hearing range, before he spoke. "You know about the Department of Mysteries last year, right?"

"When you went?" Harry nodded. "Yeah, everyone knows about that."

"Well, it's a long story, but there's this prophecy that was kept there. It was made before I was born, and it's about Voldemort – sorry – and I. Basically, one of us has to kill the other."

Parvati held a hand over her mouth, her dark eyes round with shock. "Oh!" she gasped.

He shrugged. "It's not – I mean, it is a big deal, but I'm sort of used to it by now. And I think I always knew it would end up like that, with our history, my parents and – and Cedric and all that. In a way I want to be the one."

"Harry … I don't even know what to say. How do you walk around with that in your head all day? It's enough to drive anyone mad."

"Well, someone once told me all the best people are mad." He smiled in reminiscence. "But I try not to think about it unless I have to. I suppose that's a bit mad, too."

"Probably," she agreed. They were quiet for a moment. "Harry, is that what's wrong? Having that hanging over you?"

"Well … sort of. Or maybe not. I don't know."

"I see," she commented in a wry voice.

He smiled again. "It is that, and more. You see, if I tell people things that I know, it puts them in danger. I don't want to do that; enough people have died because of me."

"Harry!" Parvati interjected. "That's a terrible thing to think. Of course they haven't."

"Oh really?" he retorted. "My parents, Cedric Diggory, my godfather – all because of me. All innocent, all dead because of me."

"Harry, you can't – that's something that really will drive someone mad." She reached out to gently touch his shoulder. "I don't know what it's like, but I know you can't blame yourself like this."

"Well, anyway ..." Harry cleared his throat. "I don't want to put anyone in that position again. But sometimes, like today, it just gets to be too much. I don't know what to do."

"First of all, I think you need to realize that anyone who opposes You-Know-Who is in danger, even if they've never even met you. And also, if you can't turn to your friends, who can you turn to? You can't do everything on your own, Harry."

He nodded, absorbing her words. She was right, and she wasn't the first one to say that to him. "Thanks, Parvati. I needed that. How'd you get so smart?"

She smiled modestly. "Comes naturally, I expect. I'm sure that girl would tell you the same thing."

"What girl?"

She smiled again. "_The _girl, Harry. The one who told you that all the best people are mad."

"How do you know she said that to me?" Harry asked, giving up on his 'what girl' sham. Given that Lavender was Parvati's best friend, he was surprised she didn't know about Tonks.

"Because you never smiled like that at me."

Harry sucked in his breath, unsure of how to respond. But as always, his ex-girlfriend demonstrated remarkable grace.

"It's fine, Harry. I didn't mean to sound bitter, because I'm not. It's just how it is."

"I'm glad we're still friends, Parvati," Harry said, stepping forward to give her a hug. "Thanks for this."

"I'm glad, too, Harry," she replied. When they parted, she gestured with her head in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. "So, to return the favor, want to help me with my patronus? I can't get it nonverbally."

"Sure," Harry returned with a glad smile.

**oOo**

Tonks frowned at her quill. She only had about a small farm's worth of forms to fill out, and her quill was scratchy. She couldn't stand scratchy quills. She tried again and tossed it on the floor in the general direction of the wastepaper basket in annoyance, snatching a new one out of her desk. There, that was better.

She was wand-deep in a request to block press access to Malfoy's trial when someone tapped on the wall of her cubicle. "Yeah?" she called without looking up.

"Tonks, a moment of your time?"

She knew that voice. Tonks shot out of her chair. "Yes, sir. Absolutely."

Gawain Robards, Head Auror, smiled knowingly while she rushed to clear the only other chair of spare robes and takeaway cartons. She really needed to clean her cubicle.

He sat and crossed his legs while waiting for Tonks to resume her seat. "So, the Malfoy case."

"Yes, sir. I'm working on it now. It's in the bag."

"I haven't any doubt that my Aurors will pull it off, but you need to be careful, Tonks."

"And why is that, sir?" she asked, stiffening.

"You are his cousin."

"I'm not –"

He held up a hand. "Deny it all you like, but technically speaking, you are. Your mother's family was prominent, and the bad blood is well known. The Wizengamot will be aware of the connection."

"There is no –"

Robards raised his voice. "The first thing the defense will do will be to file a motion citing a conflict of interest on your part."

"I've been nothing but professional," she protested. _Most of the time_, she amended silently, but it had done no harm and he didn't need to know that. "He's bloody guilty. There's no way he can get off on a technicality."

"Do you want to take that risk?"

"It's _my_ case. I've done all the work."

He stared her down until she fumed silently. "Consider removing yourself."

She stared at him, eyes darkening with frustration. "Yes, sir," she muttered.

"You're a good Auror, Tonks," he said, leaning forward, trying to soften the blow. "Your initiative and dedication over the last year, not only in this case but the Umbridge case as well, has greatly impressed me. Especially when you consider you've been stationed at Hogwarts the entire time."

"Thank you, sir."

"Of course, that stunt with the vanishing cabinet didn't help. Stupidest thing I've seen an Auror do in all my years." Only a firm control on her shifting kept her from reddening. "But I expect you've heard enough on that." He stood, clapping her on the shoulder. "Regardless, keep up the good work, and you could be looking at your tier two promotion this side of your five-year mark."

That caught her attention. The tier two rank of Auror, the goal of every fresh Junior Auror, wasn't normally considered until after five years of experience. There hadn't been a below zone promotion in years.

Robards tapped his temple. "Just use your head, Tonks." He took a few steps before turning around. "By the way, Draco Malfoy wants to speak with you."

Tonks cursed her boss as she sped down to the dungeons, shoving her arms into a maroon set of robes. Oh, he had planned that conversation carefully. Now the entire time she talked to Malfoy, she'd be thinking about endangering the case.

Awaiting trial, Malfoy was being held in a cell in the Ministry dungeons, which wasn't as bad as it sounded. Narcissa's first move had been to object because of his age. It had been shot down. Then she'd had her solicitor request a release to her care, which had also been denied. Two and naught, Aurors.

Malfoy awaited her in an interview room, where she knew others could watch and listen through a false wall. Surprisingly, he was alone.

"Where's your solicitor?"

"I didn't want him here." He looked terrible, hair mussed, skin white and waxy.

"So you're voluntarily speaking without legal advice?" she clarified. _By the books, Tonks._

"That's what I just said, isn't it?"

She took a seat across the table, stretching her legs languidly and crossing her ankles. "What do you need, Malfoy?"

He leaned forward, speaking low. "You have to help me."

_Oh, really?_ "And why is that?"

"Listen, I didn't have a choice. He – he would have killed me."

"Are you confessing?"

He shook his head. "You don't understand. It's all punishment for my father, for – the Department of Mysteries. He wants me to fail, and then he'll kill me. I had to do it."

"Do what?" she asked carefully.

He shook his head again. A fool, perhaps, but he wasn't entirely unintelligent. "And now he'll take it out on my mother. If you can't get me off, maybe I'll be safe in Azkaban for a little while, but you have to help her."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because …" he seemed to be struggling. "Because she's your aunt!"

She burst out laughing. Malfoy looked offended. "Oh, piss off, Draco. My aunt? Please. Shared blood does not a family make, particularly when one half of that family would like nothing more than to kill the other half. You didn't even know I existed until I told you."

"You certainly enjoyed claiming you were my cousin when you were mocking me."

Tonks waved her hand idly. "Oh, well, it's one of those things that one claims when it's useful. Much like you're doing now. And you had your chance, remember? I tried to help you months ago."

A bead of sweat shone on his forehead. He was truly desperate. "Don't you understand, you thick bint? He will _kill_ her, and possibly Aunt Bella, too."

Tonks laughed. "Sweetie, my only regret if your so-called Dark Lord killed Bellatrix would be that I wasn't the one to do it. The world will be a better place when she's not roaming it. But he'll never do that; she's too valuable alive."

"And my mother?" Malfoy watched her carefully. "What would your mother say if she knew you were condemning her sister to death?"

That struck closer to home than Tonks wanted him to realize. In a flash, she saw her mother's boggart again, the dead body of Narcissa Malfoy laying on the ground … "It doesn't matter what my mum would think. I'm not here for some twisted familial revenge. I'm here because you are a Death Eater and you are trying to kill innocent people."

"And so are you!" he snarled. "You can say whatever you want about me or my father, but my mother hasn't done anything. He will kill her. You have a chance to help her. That blood will be on your hands."

"I'm not the one who put her in that position, Malfoy. I'm not the one who married a Death Eater or the one who was so eager to follow in Daddy's footsteps. Finding his robes chafe, are you?"

Reaching a draw, both sat back, crossing their arms and glaring at each other. Tonks couldn't help but notice the similarities in their stances. She hated it, just as she hated being related to people like this. The fact that the two same people could produce children as dissimilar as Bellatrix and her mother was almost too much to comprehend.

"What if I told you what I know?" he asked slowly.

Tonks tensed, flicking her eyes at the false wall where she knew their conversation was being observed. _Tread carefully_, she told herself. There was a very real chance the Ministry would cut a deal with Malfoy if he was willing to name names that turned out to be true, but she did not wish for that to happen. He deserved to go to Azkaban.

"Are you asking to make a deal?" she asked. "I don't have that authority."

"I'm asking you, right here, right now, no one but you and I," he snapped. "If I tell you things I know, can you protect my mother?"

That threw her for a loop. "What about you?"

"I'm dead anyway and we both know it!" he yelled, his voice cracking. He was breathing hard now. "Merlin's arse, how did someone so stupid become an Auror?"

"Insulting me is not the way to get me to help you, you bloody idiot," she retorted.

"You aren't going to help me. You took me from Hogwarts, and the only chance I had was to finish what I had to do."

"And what was that?"

"I'm not going to tell you that easily," he said scornfully. "At least try a bit."

"So to save your own skin, you're willing to risk the lives of hundreds of others?" He was silent. "Whether you tell me now or you wait for your Veritaserum interrogation, we already have a fairly good idea of what you were doing. Putting yourself first – how very Slytherin of you."

"Whereas you're so driven by a single-minded desire to see me locked up that you're blinded to anything else. What were you, a bloody Gryffindor?"

"I was a Hufflepuff."

Malfoy laughed. "Brilliant, that is," he sneered. "The house of duffers? Of course."

Inwardly Tonks seethed. Like other Hufflepuffs she had put up with a lot of teasing over the years, and but she had a deep fondness for her old house. She'd never told anyone the truth of her long Sorting, how she had sat there for five whole minutes while the Hat mused on how she had qualities for each house but not quite enough to justify her Sorting, how she had always feared she had been dumped in Hufflepuff for lack of any better fit. But she'd never let Malfoy know he got to her. "Can we get back on topic, please?"

"You don't want to talk about what I want," he snapped, his mirth evaporating. "If I talk and walk, I'm dead. If I go to Azkaban, that only buys me a bit of time, time spent with dementors. So I'm asking you, Nymphadora –"

"Don't call me Nymphadora," she said automatically.

He sneered again. "I'm asking you, _Nymphadora_, since you are my cousin, as you so gleefully informed me, to protect my mother. That's all. If you don't, he'll kill her. I know this."

She stared at him for a long time, reading the plea in his gray eyes. He truly had nothing to lose. "I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said, standing. The words came with more difficulty than she expected. "If you want to cut a deal, I – you'll have to talk to the Wizengamot. But I … I can't promise what you're asking."

She turned to leave, shaken to her core. Was it true? Would Voldemort kill Narcissa simply because her son was caught? According to their sources, she wasn't even a Death Eater, although she was by no means innocent.

"What if I tell you something about Potter?"

She stopped in her tracks, heart pounding. Slowly Tonks turned, looking directly into the eyes that were too much like her own. "What do you know?"

He smiled. "Yes, I thought you had a soft spot for Scarhead."

She crossed the room in a few brisk strides, standing inches away. "Tell me what you know about Harry."

"Give me what I want."

"I told you I can't."

He crossed his arms and smirked. "Then you'll have to wait."

The superior look on his face broke straight through every barrier she had. Tonks seized the collar of his robes, yanking him out of his chair and slamming his back against the wall. "Tell me what you know!" she demanded. "Tell me now!"

The door of the room burst open, and Aurors poured in. Two pulled Tonks off Malfoy while a burly one restrained him. She didn't struggle, keeping her eyes locked on her cousin, who merely sneered. He knew something. Harry was in danger, and he knew.

Robards stormed in. "Take him back to his cell," he ordered. "The rest of you, leave us." They waited in silence as they room emptied, Tonks unwavering under his angry gaze. She prepared herself for the lecture that was about to commence. He waited for the door to close. "You're off the case."

"What? No, you can't do that. Listen, I'm sorry, but he knows –"

"You're off the case," he repeated, and she sensed he was just barely holding onto his anger. "You're lucky you aren't suspended. Now get out before I change my mind."

"Sir, please, you can't –"

"Go, Nymphadora."

She spun on her heel and stormed out, furious. Furious with Robards, furious with Draco Malfoy, and furious with herself.

**oOo**

After his talk with Parvati, Harry knew it was time to tell his friends. Figuring it would be easier to tell them all at once, he waited until the next day when he saw Tonks at the staff table for lunch. She hadn't been at breakfast and looked rather peaky, making him think she'd had a rough morning, but the smile seemed genuine enough when he approached her, discreetly asking to meet that night.

Eric showed up to study group that day, which pleased Harry. His attendance had become more and more regular since Hermione started helping him with his work, and there had yet to be any confrontations between the Slytherin and others, although both Ron and Dean looked askance at him, probably due to his attention to Ginny, whom he always made it a point to greet.

This time, Eric wasn't alone. Accompanying him was one of Harry's classmates, Daphne Greengrass, a Slytherin girl that usually ran around with Pansy Parkinson and Tracey Davis.

"Alright, Potter?" Eric greeted him in his deep voice, continuing without waiting for a response. "This is Daphne. She was having some trouble with her Charms homework, so I invited her along. That's cool, right?"

"Uh, sure," Harry said. There really wasn't anything he could say, even if he had his reservations about someone who could be friends with the likes of Parkinson, who spent most of her time kissing Draco Malfoy's bum.

Nodding, Eric made a beeline for Hermione, who awaited him, leaving Harry and Daphne staring at each other. "Uh, take a seat anywhere, and if you need help, ask … anyone," Harry said, waving his hand around the room. "We don't really have any rules."

"Thanks," Daphne said, adjusting the shoulder strap of her bag. "How do you know Eric?"

"Mutual friends," he replied. Daphne arched one blonde eyebrow. "Outside of Hogwarts," he clarified, hoping she wouldn't press further. He had no idea if anyone knew about Eric's … condition.

"He took me to the Yule Ball fourth year. Eric's not like some of the rest of them." She examined Harry coolly. "Nor am I."

That would be up for further review. "Yeah, well, make yourself at home."

As Daphne took a seat, Harry noticed Ron staring, slack-jawed, until Lavender smacked his head. Ravenclaw Michael Corner, an ex-boyfriend of Ginny, gave Harry the thumbs-up. Harry rolled his eyes as he took a seat. Apparently house affiliation didn't matter much when a student was attractive.

After dinner Harry asked Ron and Hermione to come with him when he met Tonks in the Room of Requirement later. He debated inviting Neville, Ginny, and Luna, or even Parvati after their talk, but he decided to take it one step at a time.

Ron and Hermione were understandably excited when they departed, assuming they were going to be trained by Tonks as well. Unable to fit all three under the invisibility cloak, they used the Marauder's Map to avoid unwelcome encounters and arrived at the spot without incident.

Tonks threw her arms around him as soon as he came into view, clinging tightly. Confused yet delighted, Harry returned the embrace, leaving his friends to stand awkwardly.

"If the opportunity arises, don't do anything stupid, babe," Tonks whispered.

Harry gave her an uncertain look when she pulled away, but she quelled him with a look of her own when she finally noticed his companions.

"I need to tell you something," he explained to the three, pacing back and forth to open the room.

When all were inside, he wasted no time, telling the entire story of Voldemort's Horcruxes, from his questions of Slughorn to the ones already destroyed.

Ron was first to break the stunned silence. "Bloody hell!"

"So he's practically immortal right now?" Tonks asked in disbelief, running a hand through her hair.

"This explains so much," Hermione burst out. Three heads stared at her. "Well, hasn't anyone else wondered why he survived when the Killing Curse rebounded on Harry? Now we know!" She looked far more pleased than one should at that sort of news.

"Yes, that's great, Hermione, but the problem is that will happen every time we try to kill him until the Horcruxes are destroyed," Harry pointed out, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I know, I just –" She fell silent.

"So that's what Dumbledore's been up to?" Tonks mused. "Fascinating."

"And he expects you to help him?" Ron said. "That's a bit much, isn't it?"

"Not really," Harry said seriously. "I want to. This is what everything this year has been about, taking a larger part in the fight against Voldemort. We – I – have to find the Horcruxes and destroy them, and then face him."

"You had it right the first time, mate," said Ron. "We."

Harry managed a smile. Despite facing increasingly insurmountable odds, he had three of the best people he knew at his side, ready to follow him wherever he led. The thought was both heartening and frightening.

Tonks slipped a hand into his, entwining their fingers. Ron smirked while Hermione smiled at the pair, and Tonks merely rolled her eyes. "Babe, tell us again which Horcruxes he knows, or suspects."

"Two have been destroyed: the diary and the Gaunt ring. Three he's sure of – Nagini, Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket. That leaves one more, something of Ravenclaw or Gryffindor."

"That's six. Didn't he ask Slughorn about making seven Horcruxes?" said Hermione.

"But that leaves a piece of soul in his body," argued Tonks. "Seven pieces of soul. Still seven, still powerful."

"Perhaps, but –"

"Do you realize how mad we sound, discussing pieces of soul like we're talking about books or something?" remarked Ron, earning grins all around.

Harry continued. "What I've been thinking about is trying to find out what the unknown one is. We can't really do much searching for sites while stuck at Hogwarts, but we can research known property of the Founders."

Hermione jumped on that. "Of course, the library will have all sorts of books on the Founders. Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor were two of the greatest wizards of all time. Ravenclaw in particular was noted to be clever; she must have had inventions and such. I'm sure I've read about something she owned –"

"No," Harry interrupted, his mouth going dry. The nagging sense in the back of his mind finally mutated into an actual thought. "You haven't read about it. You _heard_ about it, right here in this very room." Hermione's eyes widened, and they had the full attention of the other two. "Luna told us, remember? Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem." He looked around as if he expected to see it hanging about. "And she even thought she found it. Right here."


	26. Diadem

**Diadem**

It was all Harry could do not to make the room change and search until he found the diadem. Tonks was the voice of reason, pointing out that Luna could have been completely wrong, that they had no idea how to deal with a Horcrux (the diary had possessed Ginny, after all), and furthermore, running off in state of excitement to find something of unknown magic was just a really dumb idea.

"And I would know," she said frankly. "Last time I did that, a vanishing cabinet tried to rip me apart."

But an hour later Harry was still wide awake in bed. Could it have been under their noses the entire time? Not even the Marauders had found the Room of Requirement, and they'd explored the castle more thoroughly than anyone else. But what if they hadn't? What if someone else knew of it years before they came along, someone who thought of the castle as his home ... just like Harry himself. The more he dwelled on it, the more sure he was. If not the diadem, then something else, but there had to be a Horcrux in the room. In Voldemort's arrogance, he was sure to have believed no one else knew of the room, just like the Chamber of Secrets.

Morning came slowly. After a few hours of restless sleep, Harry was up at dawn, prowling the Entrance Hall until Luna came down for breakfast. He pounced on her as soon as he saw the straggly blonde hair.

"Luna, I need to ask you something," he said urgently, grabbing her elbow and propelling her past Cho Chang, who gave them a startled look.

"What's going on, Harry?" she asked with a placid smile.

"Luna, that tiara thing in the Room of Requirement – you said it was Rowena Ravenclaw's?"

Her eyes lit up. "Yes."

"How do you know?"

"Daddy's been studying the diadem for a long time. He's very close to creating a replica. It has all sorts of magical qualities like –"

"That's great, Luna," Harry interrupted. Luna was liable to go off on a very Hermione-like tangent on her myriad and queer interests, if allowed. "Do you think you could help me find it again?"

"Oh, certainly. Why are you interested?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Er, I'm interested in stuff that's connected with the Founders. You know, Hogwarts history and all that. I'm sorry, I should have listened to you the first time."

"That's perfectly fine, Harry," she said tolerantly. "You had more important things on your mind."

"Yeah. So, want to go now?"

"Oh no, I have to eat breakfast. A balanced breakfast is essential to warding off Umgubular Slashkilters, and there have been sightings in Britain recently. Probably attracted by all the dark magic," she added in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Probably," Harry agreed without having the least idea to what she referred. "After breakfast, then?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't skip my classes. O.W.L.s are in three months. Tonight, perhaps?"

Appeared he didn't have a choice. "Sure, tonight."

"Okay. See you later, Harry!" She skipped off to the Great Hall, her long hair swinging.

He considered skiving off classes and looking for it without her, but Hermione refused, and while Ron was game, Harry desisted. It wasn't going anywhere.

At lunch he arranged to meet Luna at the Room of the Requirement at ten that night, sending Tonks a patronus to the same affect. The rest of the day passed so slowly he checked his wristwatch to make sure time wasn't going backward. He couldn't have told a soul what they covered in class.

Quidditch practice, dinner, pointless revision in the common room ... it all crept by and finally the appointed hour arrived. One by one they slipped out of Gryffindor Tower, annoying the Fat Lady.

"Yes, I'm just a portrait, no minding me," she called peevishly after Harry, who went last.

Tonks was waiting at the Room of Requirement. She rolled her eyes when they arrived. "Can't do anything without your entourage?" she whispered as he paced back and forth thrice.

"The more eyes, the better."

"That may very well be, but now you'll never know what I had planned for the two of us," she murmured on his final pass.

He had a pretty good idea. Harry grinned stupidly until he noticed Hermione giving him a hard look. He hurried to open the door and avert his face.

"Split up," Tonks instructed, taking charge. "If you find it, send up sparks."

"And don't touch it," added Harry.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Ron asked, scratching his head and looking around at the gargantuan room.

Harry glanced at Luna. "It's a very beautiful tiara," she said in a dreamy voice. "It's enchanted to bring the wearer great wisdom."

With that rather vague description, they set off, each choosing an aisle. If he remembered correctly, it was somewhat near the vanishing cabinet, which was (if his bearings were correct) northeast of the center of the room. Letting his wand lay flat on his palm, Harry thought, _Point me_, and the wand spun in a circle before pointing north. He made his way in that direction.

He wandered for far too long. Perhaps his bearings weren't right after all, or maybe the room was changing as they went. Could that be a defensive measure of the Horcrux, adapting the room to fit its own purpose?

He met with Tonks by accident. She responded to his look of query with a shrug. "No luck yet."

"Why are you just standing here?"

"Oh, thinking. I do that occasionally. This is where the vanishing cabinet was."

Harry kicked at the tarp Malfoy used to cover it, now lying forlornly on the floor. He knew the cabinet had been confiscated by the Ministry for evidence. "Where is it?"

"Ministry evidence vault. Locked up tighter than a corset on Slughorn." Harry gagged at the mental image that provided, making her laugh. "We left the other at Borgin and Burkes. Guarded at all times, of course, but maybe we can nab a nosy Death Eater. Anyway, s'pose we should keep looking, you reckon?"

They continued past the empty space the cabinet occupied, looking for something familiar. Harry remembered that it was out of reach, so he kept his neck craned up even as he reached out to interlace his fingers with Tonks'. She glanced at their hands and then at Harry with a lopsided smile.

She didn't speak until a few minutes later. "I almost forgot, I had a letter from Mum this morning. She asked if you'd like to stay with them for the Easter hols."

He considered it. He'd never gone away for the Easter holiday, although students were allowed and the Hogwarts Express ran. Nearly everyone stayed, using the opportunity for extra studying for the upcoming exams. "That depends."

"Have to check your busy diary?"

"What are you doing?"

"As most students stay, so will I, keeping my all-important schedule of patrolling. If I don't chat with the portraits in the Passage of the Fouls, who will? Plus it gives Mrs. Norris exercise. I'm certain Filch set her to follow me, and I told him if I catch her one more time, I'm transfiguring her into a flobberworm. He threatened to turn me in to Professor Sprout. Apparently old habits die hard." She sighed dramatically. "Alas, no rest for the weary."

"I thought it was none for the wicked."

She winked. "Yeah, that, too."

"You don't have to do anything for Malfoy's trial?"

"No," she said, craning her neck to look at an old mannequin. "Not at all."

"Well, if you're staying, I'll stay."

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She slowed to a halt, and Harry did likewise. Taking his other hand, Tonks stepped closer, tilting her head slightly upward to look at him. "What did I do to deserve you, Harry Potter?"

"Um, well, you're really pretty and –" He swallowed; her lips were on his neck. "And – and funny, and …" His brain was turning to mush. She stopped, giving him a glance with raised eyebrows. "And smart," he hurried to continue, sighing at the reward. "Easy to talk to, and, er, pretty, and –"

Tonks laughed softly. "Okay, babe, you've stroked my ego enough for today."

"I think the real question is, why are you with me?" Harry said, holding her close.

"You mean despite the fact I thought it a terrible idea in the beginning? Oh, you tell me."

"Stunning good looks?"

"Very stunning."

"Amazing kisser?"

"Truly amazing."

"Lots of gold?"

"As rich as the Nile is long."

"Brilliant mind?"

"Surpassing Dumbledore, even." She laughed again, smiling from ear to ear. "You make me happy, Harry. You truly do, even when you're driving me crazy."

"I like driving you crazy," he said in a low voice.

"I've noticed. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

"No one else?" he asked carefully.

Tonks gazed at him for a moment, and he sensed she picked up on his meaning. When she answered, she held his eyes with her own. "No. I don't want anyone else."

He bent to kiss her then, soft and lingering, enjoying the sigh against his mouth as warmth spread from his chest. In the background, green sparks lit up the rafters.

"Oh!" They pulled apart, and Tonks pointed. "Look at that. Actual sparks, and it was only a kiss. Imagine if we had –"

"Let's go, they found it!" Harry grabbed her hand and dashed toward the source of the sparks in as straight a line as he could manage, chagrined that he had all but forgotten about the Horcrux. Tonks had that effect on him.

The three others were already there when they arrived. Surrounded by broken brooms and dormant bludgers, the diadem sat high up on top of an old wardrobe. Though his senses told him it was tarnished and dusty, to Harry it seemed to shine, fairly pulsing with magic.

"Is that it?" Ron asked, his voice far away and distant.

"Yes!" Harry tore his gaze away from the diadem to glance at Luna. Her protuberant eyes were alight with a fire foreign to the normally dreamy witch. "It's exactly like the statue in our common room! See the –"

"That's it," Harry interrupted, staring at the Horcrux again. He could almost hear it calling to him. "I know it."

"How –" Hermione began.

"I just do."

Harry pulled his wand to summon the diadem, but nothing happened. Frowning, he tried again. "_Accio _diadem!" Again, failure.

Hermione tried both a summoning charm and a levitation charm. She, too, was unsuccessful. "Perhaps that's one of the defenses. You can't cast a spell on it."

"Well, if it won't come to us, we must go to it." Tonks drew her wand. "Harry?"

He nodded, and a second later he was floating in the air, lifted by an unseen force. It was a very surreal feeling, similar to flying but unaided and not in control. He preferred a broom. On the ground, Tonks worked carefully, biting her lip in concentration.

As he drew closer, he made out an oval sapphire set in the middle of the tiara. It seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat and a throbbing in his scar. The air around it was so charged he was surprised it didn't crackle. Closer and closer, and Harry reached out like he was capturing a snitch –

"Harry, wait!"

He jerked a bit as Tonks' concentration was disrupted. Hermione gazed up with anxiety in her eyes. "Perhaps you shouldn't touch it?"

He nodded, remembering not only Dumbledore's withered hand but Katie Bell and the cursed necklace. Tonks removed her blouse (she had a t-shirt underneath), and Harry summoned it. Careful to make sure his hand was entirely wrapped in the still-warm shirt and trying to ignore the lingering scent of her perfume, he reached out to seize the diadem.

The moment he touched it, Harry felt a surge of triumph that wasn't his own, as if two puzzle pieces were connected. Confused and uneasy, he clenched it tightly as he was lowered to the ground. All gathered around to look at it.

"It's so lovely," Luna exclaimed.

"It's so old," said Ron.

"Ron, it was owned by one of the Founders," Hermione said. "They aren't exactly contemporary."

"Still, I reckoned a Ho–" Ron broke off, coughing, when Harry's elbow connected with his stomach. "A famous, enchanted object would have some sort of charm that keeps it looking nice."

Thankfully, Luna was too focused on the object of her desire to noticed Ron's faux pas. "It's not about the appearance. It's the qualities it bestows on the wearer that makes it desirable. Please, may I see?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Luna," Harry said slowly. She couldn't keep her eyes off it. "I need to take this to Professor Dumbledore. He's been, um, trying to find it." _Even if he didn't know it._

"Wizards have been seeking it for centuries. I would very much like to put it on, just for a moment."

Harry tightened his grip when she reached out, feeling territorial. "I don't think you should."

Luna wore a very un-Luna-like expression of impatience. "Harry Potter, it belongs to Ravenclaw House. Let me see it."

"It's mine!"

"OI!" Blue sparks shot between them, making the teens jump backward. Tonks looked between the two before letting her eyes drift to the diadem, brows knitting. "Come on, blondie, I'll escort you back to your common room so you don't get into trouble. Ron, Hermione, you should do the same, and Harry, I think you'll be taking that to Dumbledore," she gave him a very pointed look, "right now?"

Shaking his head, unsure of what made him so possessive, Harry agreed, and they set off in three different directions.

"Cockroach clusters. Ice Mice. Licorice Whips? Every Flavor Beans? Lemon drops!"

Finally the door to Dumbledore's office opened, and Harry sprinted up the spiral staircase. Merlin, how often was the password changed?

"Professor Dumbledore!" he called, knocking on the door.

It took only a moment for the door to open, revealing a concerned Headmaster in a purple dressing gown. "Harry? Is something wrong?"

"No, Professor, and I'm sorry to wake you, but I – well, I found a Horcrux."

It had taken nearly six years, but Harry had finally rendered Dumbledore at a loss for words. He recovered after a few seconds and opened the door wider. "Perhaps you should come in and tell me what has been happening in the castle."

Carefully placing the Horcrux on Dumbledore's desk, Harry launched into the tale of discovery, beginning with the first time Luna spotted the diadem in the Room of Requirement. The Headmaster frowned at times but otherwise remaining impassive, nodding and murmuring his understanding. When Harry brought him up to that very night, Dumbledore didn't speak, choosing instead to examine the Horcrux. Harry watched closely but deduced nothing from the silent spellwork.

Finally Dumbledore sat back in his chair, pressing the tips of his fingers together under his chin and frowning. "I must say, this is highly surprising. Why did you not approach me when you realized your suspicions?"

He'd been expecting this. "I ... I wanted to know I could do it," he said in a rush. "If I'm going to face Voldemort one day, I need to stop relying on other people. I know I have a lot to learn, but it's time I stepped up and took care of things on my own."

"I see."

"It is a Horcrux, right?"

"I believe so. There are traces of dark magic the likes of which I have only seen twice before, and Rowena Ravenclaw's famous enchanted diadem would certainly appeal to Tom Riddle." Dumbledore frowned at the diadem. "I am most curious, however, about how he found it. Wizards have been searching for this for centuries." After a moment's consideration, he waved his wand, letting loose a silvery bird-like form that quickly left the room.

"A patronus, sir."

"Yes, Harry."

A silence pressed on them as they waited for the recipient of the patronus, whomever that might be. Harry wondered why they didn't destroy it right away, but he knew from experience that the Headmaster rarely deviated from his intended path, even if pushed. It would do no good to ask, and perhaps learning the full story of the diadem would help in locating others.

Instead Harry turned his attention to Dumbledore himself. He looked more fatigued than ever, occasionally pressing his eyes shut as if in pain. Harry stared at the deadened hand, not caring that he was being obvious. A terrible thought occurred.

Could Dumbledore die?

He wanted to dismiss it, wanted to believe the Headmaster was all but immortal, but he couldn't. His failing health over the last year, his references to the passing of time … no. He'd asked more than once if Dumbledore was alright, and he had always received reassurances.

_Yes, because Dumbledore has always been honest with you_, a snide voice whispered in his head.

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore?"

Harry started at the voice. A tall, ethereal ghost glided through a wall into the office – the Grey Lady, the ghost of Ravenclaw. He had never heard her speak before. Her eyes ran over Harry dismissively before they fell on the diadem.

"Where did you get that?" she demanded, her voice shrill. "That belongs to my mother!"

"Your _mother_?" Harry blurted out.

She drew herself up with a haughty expression, now floating a good foot above the ground. "My mother was Rowena Ravenclaw, and that is her diadem."

"But how did it –"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Perhaps you should tell us the entire story, Helena." It took Harry a moment to realize he referred to the Grey Lady.

He listened, spellbound, as she told a tale of jealousy, betrayal, and rage, of stealing her mother's diadem and leaving it in a forest, of the spurned lover sent to fetch her. He had always been told no one knew the Bloody Baron's story; to think the answer lay right in front of them the entire time.

She finished with the diadem hidden in Albania, but now Harry had a good idea of where the story went. "You told someone else about it, didn't you?"

"He was – persuasive, and charming," she replied defensively. "You don't understand, I never –"

"You weren't the first or last one to fall under his spell," said Harry, thinking not only of a rotund Potions master but of a frightened young girl with long red hair.

Helena Ravenclaw returned her attention to Dumbledore. "You asked, as did Professor Flitwick and so many others, but I was …"

"There is nothing to be ashamed of," he said gently.

She pointed at the diadem. "Beware, Professor. He has done something to my mother's diadem, something very dark. It will not bring wisdom any longer."

"I shall take care of it. Thank you, Helena. You have helped greatly."

She nodded her head once before glancing at Harry as she glided away. "Farewell, Harry Potter." It was hard to tell with a ghost, but he thought there was something more serene about her now.

"And now we know why Tom was attracted to Albania," Dumbledore continued. "You have guessed, I believe, when he placed it in the castle."

"There was only once, right? When he asked for a job the second time?"

"Yes, it must have been."

"He was returning to the diadem to its home," Harry thought aloud. "Not just its home, but his home. The only home he's ever known." _Like me._ "He probably thought it was safe, like he was really clever, the only person to discover the room and its true use."

"Which brings me to wonder how it is that you discovered it, Harry. Not that you are not clever enough, by any means."

The truth lay with Dobby the overeager house-elf, but Harry didn't want to betray his trust. Perhaps the house-elves weren't supposed to tell castle secrets. "You mentioned it, sir."

"Did I?"

"At the Yule Ball. You told Karkaroff about a room full of, er, toilets that you'd never seen before and hadn't been able to find since. And then it was just some, uh, trial and error …"

Thankfully, Dumbledore smiled. "Indeed, and it has worked in our favor that you did. Now, back to our task at hand."

He turned to the case behind his desk, unlatching it and pulling out a gleaming sword. The sword of Godric Gryffindor, the same one Harry had pulled out of the Sorting Hat and killed the basilisk with in the Chamber of Secrets, unintentionally imbuing it with the power to destroy Horcruxes.

"Would you like to do the honors, Harry?"

He blinked. "Me?"

"I believe you have earned the right, and I do not think myself in proper sword-fighting condition." The tips of his withered fingers peeped out from his robes.

"Oh, er, okay."

Harry accepted the sword and clenched it tightly with both hands. Nerves, excitement, and undeniable fear rushed through his veins, speeding up his heart rate. With a wave of Dumbledore's wand, everything else on his desk vanished. He carefully slid the diadem out of Tonks' shirt onto the middle of the desk.

"I do not expect I have to tell you to be careful, Harry," Dumbledore advised in a quiet voice.

Recalling the diary, Harry nodded. Telling himself to do it before he thought about it too much, he raised the sword and brought it squarely down on the diadem with as much force as he could muster, connecting with a CLANG.

The room was instantly engulfed in black smoke so thick it was choking. Harry couldn't move, his body glued to the sword that was stuck in the diadem. A thousand voices surrounded him, swooping in his ears one after another as their unseen bodies circled him.

"You're dangerous."_ Ron._

"I nearly died, Harry." _Hermione_.

"He used me to get to you." _Ginny_.

"I was trying to save you." _Sirius_.

_It's not them it's not real make it stop!_ They kept coming, each on the tail of the prior. Harry's arms trembled; he wanted to let go, drop the sword and shove his fingers in his ears, but something told him he would keep hearing them.

"He told me to step aside." _Mum_.

"The spare." _Cedric_.

"I couldn't stop him." _Dad_.

"It's only a matter of time." _Tonks_.

"IT'S NOT!" With a shout, Harry wrenched the sword out of the diadem, raising it for another go, but the darkness poured back into the diadem as quickly as it spilled out, leaving nothing but a cracked stone in a tarnished tiara. And a split second before it was over, Harry heard another voice, high-pitched and sibilant, one he would never forget.

"_We will meet again, Harry Potter."_

Harry slowly lowered the sword, breathing hard and staring at the ruined Horcrux. Although it was over, the burden on his shoulders was anything but lifted. Dumbledore, too, was silent as if waiting for something else to happen.

"Well done, Harry," he finally said quietly. "Well done indeed. Might I ask – you said, 'It's not.' To whom were you speaking?"

"You didn't ...?" Harry shook his head. "No one."

"Very well. Are you quite alright?" Harry looked away, unable to meet his piercing eyes. Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, you must remember that a Horcrux is not a memory, nor is it an enchanted object. It is a piece of soul, something that lives and thinks and, to an extent, feels. It has its own defenses, and it will do whatever it takes to avoid destruction, including manipulating those around it to its own devices."

That made Harry think of something. "Sir, when we found it, Luna … she wanted it very much, more forceful than I've ever seen her."

"Hmm. It is quite possible that the shard of soul inside the diadem picked up on her emotions. Not only is Miss Lovegood a Ravenclaw, but you said her father has been attempting to recreate it. Naturally she would be most curious, and the Horcrux could have seen that as a way to latch onto her and possibly escape."

"Like with Ginny."

"Precisely. The soul wants nothing more than to be reunited with its owner. In the case of Miss Weasley, it fed off the emotions she poured into it – feelings of loneliness, envy, and worry – and told her what she wanted to hear, thus strengthening the bond. And of course, you saw that prolonged exposure merely gives it more time to embed itself within someone. Very dark magic, Harry."

"And Professor," Harry began hesitantly. "When I was near it, I – I really wanted it. I felt drawn to it like I've never felt before. Almost like it was talking to me. Is that normal?"

The longer Dumbledore took to answer, the more nervous Harry grew. "I am terribly sorry, Harry, but I do not have all the answers. Research on Horcruxes is, mercifully, sparse. It could be that it picked up on your yearning, similar to that of Miss Lovegood but of course for different reasons." His eyes dropped to his desk, sparking a flare of worry in Harry.

"Professor, are you okay?"

He removed his half-moon spectacles and rubbed his eyes before answering. "Just a very old, very weary man, Harry. I expect Auror Tonks will not want her shirt returned after this?"

That did nothing to quench his anxiety. "Um, no, probably not. I should go, anyway. We'll have our regular lesson Saturday?"

"Yes. And Harry? Very well done, my boy."

Harry left with conflicting emotions – pleased at their success (_One more to cross off the list_) but more drained by his experience with the Horcrux than he had let on. This time he wasn't surprised to find his feet leading to a familiar wooden door.

Tonks was still fully dressed when she answered his knock. A book lay next to a steaming mug on the fireside coffee table.

"How did it –" she started before taking in his drained eyes. "Oh, sweetheart, come here." She pulled him close, silently shutting the door and wrapping a thick quilt around both of them. "Is it done?"

"Yes."

She picked up on what was left unsaid. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not right now."

"Okay." She stroked the back of his neck as he buried his head in sweet-smelling fuchsia hair. "It's okay," she murmured, breath hot on his cheek. "Everything's going to be alright." When she pulled back, tugging his head down to lightly kiss his temple, she took one more look into his eyes and stepped back. "You have your map and cloak, right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"We're going for a walk."

In true Tonks fashion, she offered no explanation or elaboration, merely shrugging into a sweatshirt before leading him out the door. They avoided Mrs. Norris, dodged Professor Sinistra, hexed Peeves, and narrowly escaped Filch before Tonks was trapped into a five-minute conversation with a Hufflepuff prefect who didn't seem to want to end it, while Harry waited, hidden.

Finally they reached the grounds, walking hand in hand until she stopped at a beech tree on the edge of the lake, unknowingly the same tree that Harry had once witnessed, via pensieve, his parents having a row during their own Hogwarts years. Sitting against the trunk, with Tonks between his legs wrapped in his arms, he rested his chin on her head. She again demonstrated an unquestioning understanding of when to stay silent. Despite his brooding, he was reminded once more of how deeply his feelings for the Metamorphmagus ran and how grateful he was for her.

Exhilaration warred with a deep sense of discomfort, but as Harry reminded himself over and over: three Horcruxes down.


	27. Easter

**Easter**

_Three down, three to go. Three down, three to go._ The mantra repeated in Harry's head over and over as March waned, not the least bit helped by the fact that Tonks created a spectacularly annoying jingle out of it and proceeded to sing it so much he silenced her during one of their training sessions.

Still, three down, three to go. Nearly halfway. Though still unnerved by his experience with the Horcrux, he was beginning to believe the odds weren't insurmountable after all. All three of his extracurricular lessons – Tonks, Cooper, and Dumbledore – were proceeding rather well, even if that combined with Quidditch practice (which he tried to ramp up as much as possible, aware of the upcoming Cup match versus Ravenclaw) and his classes left him with precisely zero free time.

His growing state of exhaustion led him to reconsider the Tonkses' offer of an Easter respite, spurred by the fact that Tonks claimed she could swing at least one day off. Even more than that, he just wanted some time to himself. Somehow word had leaked of his involvement in Malfoy's arrest, and despite his refusal to discuss it, he was hounded more than ever.

"I can't even go to the loo in peace," he groused to Parvati one evening after Colin Creevey caught him with his perpetual "Alright, Harry?" immediately after Harry stepped out of the boy's bathroom.

"And not to mention that lot," she added, nodding her head toward Romilda Vane and her friends, who were sending Harry looks that went far past flirtatious. "I expect they haven't learned the meaning of 'subtle.'"

"Or 'give up.'" Parvati laughed, coaxing a grunt of a chuckle from Harry as well. Her voice turned tentative. "_Do_ you know anything about Malfoy?"

"He's awaiting a trial date." That was the only update from Tonks, and in yesterday's _Daily Prophet _as well. Harry wasn't going to say anything beyond that, not even to Parvati. He hurried to change the subject before she could press him. "So I hear you're going home for Easter, too."

She nodded. "You know Mum and Dad didn't want us to return at all, so they didn't give us a choice. More than the usual crowd this year, I think. Lavender is going home as well."

She nodded at the corner, where Lavender and Ron were having a particularly enthusiastic goodbye. Ginny and Dean sat nearby, staring in opposite directions with glum looks on their faces. Harry wondered if the couple was on the outs. Every so often Ginny glanced at her brother with an expression of disgust.

"Now that you're leaving, she's afraid Ron and Hermione will be all by themselves for a week," continued Parvati, watching Harry carefully.

That annoyed him. "Nothing is going to happen between Ron and Hermione. And nothing's going on between Hermione and I, either. We're all just friends, okay?"

"Okay," she replied quickly, contrite. Then she gave Harry a sly glance. "But you didn't clarify about you and Ron …"

Harry's Herbology diagram sailed over her head.

It had taken some doing to get Dumbledore to allow Harry to leave for Easter. Only when Harry had snapped that the Headmaster wasn't his guardian that he had acquiesced, leaving Harry angry that he had to seek permission in the first place. Who was Dumbledore to tell him where he could and couldn't go? He had been controlling Harry's living situation his entire life, and Harry was sick of it. Dumbledore also extracted a promise that Harry wouldn't leave the Tonks property, but after the New Year's Eve debacle, that wasn't a hard decision.

As it was, Harry didn't expect to have much free time over the holiday anyway. Despite no major benchmark exams this year, the teachers set just as much or more homework as they had during his O.W.L. year as if N.E.W.T.s weren't more than a year away. Nonverbal spells were par for the course, and while Harry had long mastered the skill, it didn't make learning new magic any easier.

Snape had risen to a new level of nastiness, particularly to Harry. He didn't let a single opportunity to make snide remarks to Harry slip by, and he docked House points and marks for the slightest infractions.

"Can you believe that?" Harry fumed, walking out of DADA one windy day. "I didn't do anything! Detention for not saying 'please' – it's completely unfair! How does he get away with this?"

Ron sympathized. "He's been a right foul git, even by normal Snape standards."

"Yeah, he has, ever since ... since Malfoy was arrested," Harry realized.

"You think that's it? He blames you?"

"Maybe. I mean, he knows all about Malfoy."

"Yeah, and maybe he was helping him!" Ron said excitedly. "We know he's a double agent. Who's to say he's actually on our side."

"But we've been through this before," Hermione joined in. "First year, remember? He wasn't trying to kill Harry, he was trying to protect him. And last year he contacted the Order when Harry thought Sirius was captured. Dumbledore trusts him."

"And so does Voldemort," Harry returned harshly. "Listen, Hermione, I'm not saying he's a traitor. But the only person who truly knows what side Snape is on is Snape."

**oOo**

Harry stood in the middle of his dormitory. The room was empty otherwise, far neater than normal. Everything was in its place. He slowly spun in a circle, clenching his wand. Despite outward appearances, something was not right ...

There! Before anything happened, he pointed his wand at the window. "_Protego!_"

Harry _felt_something press against his invisible shield, bending it, but it held. For a moment he grinned in triumph, and then the scene dissolved ...

"Brilliant, Harry!" exclaimed Cooper. They were back in Dumbledore's office.

Harry rubbed his head, feeling the clamminess of his sweating palm. "Yeah, great. Now if only I could do it without feeling like I actually cast the shield."

"That will come with time. I can't stress how fantastic this is, Harry. A breakthrough, truly. Your first time to block me before I could break in – it's a turning point."

Despite his weariness, as worn mentally as he'd ever been physically after dueling with Tonks, Harry managed a grin. He was quite pleased.

"Here, have some chocolate." Cooper broke a bar of Honeyduke's into two pieces and handed him the larger.

"Is chocolate the miracle healer?" Harry asked. "Professor Lupin used to give me some when he was teaching me the patronus charm."

"Lupin? The bloke from the Order? He was your professor?"

"Yes, Defense in third year."

Cooper stared. "You – you learned the patronus charm in your _third year_?" he said faintly.

"Er, yeah. There were dementors stationed around the school, and ..." Harry looked away, shoving chocolate in his mouth and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Blimey." As if sensing his embarrassment, Cooper hurried to continue. "But, uh, you asked a question. Chocolate. Yes, it has rejuvenating properties, especially for the mind. And it's just so good. So, shall we continue?"

As they had been for the past hour, Cooper attempted to penetrate Harry's mind. Occasionally they stopped to discuss certain techniques and aspects, such as the difference between a pressure in the back of his mind and a buzzing. Harry's reactions grew slower, whether through his own fatigue, an increase of strength on Cooper's part, or a combination.

He was back in his dormitory. He was jumpy, uneasy. Two times he thought he sensed another, only to be wrong, and Harry tried to relax, calming himself. And then Cooper burst through a trunk like a boggart. It was too late, and Harry was overwhelmed, falling …

Cedric's lifeless body lay spread-eagled on the grass, and Harry clung tightly, refusing to let go …

He and Hermione gazed at a row of potions, flames flickering in the distance …

_No, fight it, push him out._

He and Tonks pressed against each other in the Room of Requirement, kissing, one minute languid and the next rushed …

_No, you can't see that, stop._

While he daringly inched up her ribs, her fingers walked their way down his torso until they reached his trousers, slipping beneath the waist …

"NO!"

Harry pushed, and he heard a clatter, and the presence in his head was gone. He opened his eyes slowly, still reeling from his failure to prevent an invasion. The onslaught of memories was overpowering.

Cooper was sprawled on the ground behind his chair, rubbing his head. He righted himself, dusting off his robes and blinking his eyes. When he resumed his seat, neither looked at the other. Harry didn't want anyone to see his private moments with Tonks, least of all the man who was in love with her.

Cooper finally spoke, still studying something on the wall behind Harry. "Your wand –"

"– is in my pocket."

"Ah. That's what I thought." Another pregnant pause. "I won't mention this to, ah, Tonks, of course."

"No. Nor will I."

"Yeah. Good."

"Yeah."

"Well, that's probably a good stopping point. And Merlin, look at the time. Yeah, I need to get going."

"Sorry about that," Harry muttered, staring at Cooper's vacated seat. "I didn't mean …"

"No, it's fine. We were bound to reach your breaking point. If you mastered Occlumency in one night, I'd curse you for a charlatan." That earned a wry chuckle. "And as for your reaction … well, I would very much hate to be someone who really angers you."

Harry didn't respond. He hated that Cooper acted like he'd done something. He hadn't done anything; whatever happened was completely of its own accord. Accidental magic, like before he came to Hogwarts. That was all.

"Anyway … until next time, mate. You did well, very well. Great job tonight."

Cooper clapped his shoulder on his way to the Floo, and Harry made himself look him in the eye. Embarrassed, yes, but not ashamed. There wasn't anything to be ashamed of. Besides, Cooper was doing him a favor and deserved at least that.

When he heard the Floo whoosh behind him, Harry dropped back into his seat, running his hands over his hair. He felt like he'd run a marathon. It was a good five minutes before he felt up to dragging his feet back to Gryffindor Tower and collapsing into his four-poster.

**oOo**

On the first day of Easter holidays, Harry went to McGonagall's office to Floo to the Tonkses', just as he had for Christmas. Only Ron and Hermione knew his destination, leaving everyone else to assume he returned to the Dursleys', although anyone that knew Harry halfway decently would wonder at that. After promising her once more there would be no 'London-traipsing tomfoolery', whatever that was, he disappeared through the fireplace.

Ted awaited him on the other side. "Alright, Harry?" he greeted him with a broad grin and a handshake.

"Good, sir. Thank you for inviting me again."

"Nonsense, it's our pleasure. The wife sends her apologies, by the way. She's resting right now, been a bit poorly lately, but nothing her potions can't cure, I'm sure. So it's just us men, left to fend for ourselves, but I reckon we can handle that, can't we, son?"

"Yeah." Harry grinned, remembering just how much he liked Ted Tonks. All of his daughter's happy-go-lucky nature with none of the Black mood swings.

He took his bag up to the blue room, taking a moment to sit on the bed before changing out of his Hogwarts uniform. Despite only spending a couple of weeks here, it felt more like a home than the house on Privet Drive ever had.

The day passed quietly. Ted soon retired to his office with some business to attend to, and Harry was left on his own. It suited him, anyway, as he planned to spend the holiday doing homework, practicing Occlumency, and studying Latin.

And, as it turned out, dwelling on Neville's request. Harry knew they would all play a role in the resistance against Voldemort. They already were. Just as he had before forming the DA, he found himself unconsciously planning lessons, thinking of what he could transfer from his sessions with Tonks.

Andromeda made an appearance the following morning. Harry walked in on a squabble between she and Ted in the kitchen.

"And I assure you, darling, I am perfectly fine." She turned to Harry with a smile. "Good morning, Harry, how did you sleep?"

"Fine," he replied, accepting her hug. She hugged like Mrs. Weasley, that motherly way, he reflected, although more reserved and less rib-cracking. "How do you feel?"

"As I was just informing my husband," with a pointed look toward said spouse, "I feel much better. I am the healer in this household, after all."

"And as such your own worst patient," Ted snarked.

"I expect that title is reserved for your daughter, Theodore." Her attention swerved back to Harry, who was now the unwelcome recipient of that look. "I suppose you know all about her leaving hospital strictly against her healer's orders?"

"I, er, she might have mentioned something about that."

"What I'm to do with that girl, I'll never know." A rasher of bacon flew into a skillet. "She's as liable to kill herself with her own foolishness than by anything in the line of duty."

"That 'girl' is a grown woman of twenty-two, Dromeda. She'll be fine." Opening the _Daily Prophet_, Ted slid a mug of coffee toward Harry with a wink.

Breakfast was nothing less than delicious and filling. Harry had just stood to help Andromeda clear the table when the sound of a door opening and closing came from the front. Frowning, Andromeda went to investigate. Less than a second later, she shrieked.

Ted and Harry exchanged one fearful glance before pulling their wands and dashing after her, skidding to a halt in the foyer. Tonks stood just inside the door, wearing a guilty expression and what looked like several liters of blood drenching her body.

"It's not mine!" she hastily declared.

"Then why are you covered in it?" Andromeda demanded, holding one hand to her chest.

"I was doing some recon on a suspected D.E. meeting outside Dundee, and things got a bit out of hand. No worries, I had backup, and now we have two new baddies in Ministry cells."

"And … _that_?" Andromeda waved her hand.

Tonks looked at her clothes like she was seeing them for the first time. "Oh, _this_. Um … it's a long story, rather gruesome, honestly, but I'm fine, nothing to worry over."

"And you're here, dripping someone else's blood on my floor because …?"

"No one can remove blood stains like you, Mum."

"That's not the type of flattery a mother wishes to hear, baby. Alright, hand them over. _Not_ here, Nymphadora."

Grinning, Tonks slid her arms back into her jacket and bounded for the stairs, issuing an odd squelching noise with every step. Sighing, Andromeda followed, using her wand to clean the footprints. Left alone and somewhat dumbstruck, Ted and Harry looked at each other again, blinking.

"She's requesting food," Andromeda announced when she came down, gingerly holding a bundle of crimson-colored clothing. "As we just finished, I don't expect either of you crave a sandwich."

Harry declined. "No, I don't," said Ted. "Why don't you go rest and let me take care of the food?"

Andromeda stopped, pivoting slowly on one foot, and Harry smothered a grin. He'd seen the look she wore a dozen times, just on a slightly different face. "Theodore Tonks. I have been slightly ill with what is nothing worse than a bug. I feel perfectly fine now, and I'd like to make my daughter a sandwich without being hassled. Is that alright?"

"Quite, my love," Ted murmured. When she was gone, Ted turned to Harry, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "One thing you have to learn about women, son. Sometimes they're simply in a bad mood."

Nodding his understanding, Harry smiled and returned to the living room, where his Latin book awaited him. He was finding the study difficult but not impossible. Six years of magical study helped, and he surprised himself at how often he could suss out the meaning of a word simply by connecting the root with a spell. He wanted to test out some spells to see if understanding the incantation helped, as Dumbledore suggested, but unfortunately he still had four months before that wouldn't bring down the Improper Use of Magic Office's wrath upon him.

Tonks plopped down next to him, devouring a towering sandwich and greasy crisps. Freshly showered, she wore a Quidditch jersey that made Harry do a doubletake.

"What's that, then?" he asked, pointing at the Ministry of Magic logo on one shoulder.

She swallowed. "Ministry Intramural Quidditch League. I played for the DMLE last year. Cooper, too. We finally beat the Department of Magical Games and Sports – first time in a decade they lost the Cup. Still sore, too, ha!"

"I didn't know they had an intramural league."

"Oh, yeah, have for years. Anyone can play, and we're grouped by department. Like I said, the old Quidditch players in Magical Games usually win, reliving their glory days, but every once in a while someone else gets a good enough team together. It can get pretty heated – the Experimental Charms blokes always try to use new spells, the International team brings in foreign players, us in Law Enforcement try to arrest the best players from other departments – s'fun."

"Sounds like it." Harry tried to picture himself as an Auror, still playing Quidditch. It was a nice future. Assuming, of course, he made it there in one piece. "How'd you find the time to do that last year?"

"You mean along with my job and working for the Order?" She pursed her lips, shrugging. "Haven't a clue. No social life?"

He laughed. "You? I doubt that very much."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," she said, her cheerful tone wavering. "Great fun, it is. You'll have to join up once you qualify. Course this year, the powers that be decided that with all that's going on, we had more than enough to be getting on with and canceled the tournament until one Voldemort, Dark Lord of all, is brought down." She gave him a playful shove with her shoulder. "So get on that! I'm not getting any younger."

"Sure, but as far as looks go, you're not getting any older, either." He had to dodge a pillow, aimed at his head.

"Tosser." She returned to her sandwich, giving him a side eye that couldn't quite hide her smile. When she was finished, plate banished to the kitchen, she nudged him again. "Do you mind if I …" Tonks suggested, laying down and propping her head on his thigh.

"Not at all."

She switched on the television, turning the volume down low so as not to disturb his reading and when she rested an arm behind her head, lacing her fingers with those of his free hand, his heart beat just a little faster.

It wasn't very long at all before he felt her hand relax in his. Looking down, he smiled. Unsurprisingly, she was fast asleep, her mouth slightly ajar as she clenched her wand to her chest like a stuffed animal. Harry brushed away a few stray pieces of hair that were stuck to her lip and let her slumber in peace, trying to keep his mind on his Latin.

_Aguamenti. Aqua. Water. Mens. Mind._

_Avifors. Avis. Bird_

_Quietus. Quiet._

_Somnus. Sleep._

_Bellus. Beautiful._

_Amor. Love._

A growling interrupted his progress. Tonks' cat, the oddly named Jabba, perched on the back of the sofa, glaring unblinkingly at him. Harry didn't care much for cats – even Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, was tolerable at best – and Jabba was no exception. In this case, the dislike was mutual.

"Go on," he ordered. "I'm not bothering you."

The low, deep growling continued. Jabba turned his head to look at Tonks, blinked once, and returned to stare at Harry, his tail twitching.

"It's Tonks, is it? You're a jealous cat, huh?"

This time Jabba hissed.

"Fine, fine," said Harry, knowing from experience the cat was highly hostile to anyone who wasn't a Metamorphmagus Auror in her early twenties. He slipped his hand from hers and held it up for the cat's inspection. "See? I'm not touching her anymore. You can't blame me for her head, though. If I move that, I'll wake her."

The cat hissed once more before jumping onto Tonks, so heavy Harry was sure she'd wake. But she didn't, merely mumbling, "Banana fudge," and Jabba settled himself along her side, sandwiched against the couch. He purred, giving Harry what he was sure was a feline smirk.

"Damn cat," Harry muttered. "You're going to have to get used to me, you know."

"I wouldn't count on that, dear. He allows my presence only because I feed him."

Andromeda moved around the couch, smiling fondly at both as she produced a blanket out of nowhere and draped it over her daughter. Jabba hissed again. "Oh, stop it, you. I gave birth to her. I've more of a claim than you."

"Charmer, he is."

She laughed. "I long for the day when Nymphadora returns to her flat and takes him with her. I don't know why she won't take him to Hogwarts. All he does when she's gone is yowl at Ted and I, as if we're responsible for her absence."

"I don't know." Harry gestured at Tonks. "Has she always done that, slept with her wand?"

"Not that I'm aware of. I expect it's something Alastor Moody taught her."

"Constant vigilance," Harry said, grinning.

Andromeda furrowed her brow. "What's that, now?"

"It's something he always sai– well, actually, I don't know if _he_ ever said it, it was only the other Moody that I actually heard say it, but it does fit …" He trailed off, aware of Andromeda's deepening confusion. "Just … nothing."

"I see." An awkward pause. "Do you need anything? It appears you're rather tied down at the moment."

Harry tried not to flush, more aware than ever that his leg was currently a pillow. "Er, no, I'm fine, thanks. Um, how do you feel?"

"Practically perfect in every way, Harry, just as I told my husband. Are you quite sure I can't get you anything?"

The way she was looking at him … he was no stranger to that persistent gaze. "Some water would be nice," he admitted.

The morning passed quickly, though Harry had had his share of studying after a few hours. Tonks woke in time for lunch, and afterward they dragged out old board games from Tonks' childhood, playing Cluedo, a London edition of Monopoly, a game called Dragons and Broomsticks that he'd never heard of, and a wizarding version of Trivial Pursuit wherein Harry failed miserably and Andromeda completely swept the table.

"Perhaps you lot should have paid more attention during History of Magic," she said, just a shade smugly, as they cleared the board.

"No one pays attention in History of Magic, Mum. It's Hogwarts tradition," retorted Tonks. "Plus you had all that pureblood nonsense drilled into your head when you were growing up. Unfair advantage. Let's play Jenga; I always win that."

"We can't, Dora. Harry can't play," Ted pointed out.

The telephone rang, startling Harry. Neither Andromeda nor Tonks budged, leaving Ted to answer it.

"Why not? I know how to play Jenga."

"We play with our wands," Tonks explained, her eyes gleaming. "Levitating the pieces instead of using our hands. I have a two-year winning streak."

"Trained Auror. Unfair advantage," mocked Andromeda.

Tonks looked like she had a smart remark on her lips, but Ted interrupted, returning. "For you, Dora."

"Me?" she queried, nonplussed. "Who'd ring me? Is it Adam?"

"I haven't any idea."

She stood and stretched, yawning. "Ah, well. I need to move anyway."

She returned promptly before they finished putting away all the games. "Who was it?" Andromeda asked, gathering their empty cups.

"Just someone I knew long ago. One of those random things. Say, Harry, fancy a walk? I could use some air."

Thinking she looked peaky, he agreed, and they departed after promising to stay close and return in time for dinner. Hand-in-hand, they wandered the property and drifted down the lane, keeping the house in sight. Tonks yawned again.

"Do you ever do anything besides sleep?" Harry teased.

"Lots," was her prompt response. "That's why I sleep when I can. I haven't had anything remotely like a nine to five life since I left Hogwarts."

"You don't have to make excuses, Dora," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "I know I bore you."

"Bore me … what?"

He tried to keep a straight face, but a grin slipped out. "That's why you always sleep when I'm around."

"Harry Potter, you do not bore me in the slightest. There are many things I like to do with you, and none," she lowered her voice, adopting a sultry tone and winking, "involve actual sleeping."

Harry tried to formulate a coherent response, finally settling on a hoarse, "Good to know."

Tonks chortled, and they walked along. Occasionally she pointed out various landmarks with comments such as, "I fell out of that tree when I was eight," and, "When I was thirteen I threw a snowball at the woman who lives there and was grounded all Christmas." Harry watched her, trying to picture this same scene years down the road. He could see the two of them together, older, working together as Aurors, but as soon as tried to imagine no war, no Voldemort, his mental image vanished like so many dandelion seeds in the wind. After all, he didn't know if he would have a future after Voldemort.

"So, what happened last night?" he asked, trying to turn his mind away from its current dismal thoughts.

"Another Auror and I were assigned to monitor –"

"You and Cooper?"

"No, someone from another team. When she arrived, she realized it was larger than intel suggested, so she asked for backup and they sent me. I was already in Scotland, and spying is my specialty. So anyway, we monitored the attendees, and when they broke up, she wanted to follow a suspect she's been tailing for weeks. And that turned out to be a very bad idea."

"Did he catch you?"

"No, not at first. As it turned out, he's not quite in with them yet, so they – the Death Eaters – sent someone to follow him. Very quickly turned into a mess. We held them off until backup arrived, and as they tend to do when outnumbered, most of the Death Eaters scarpered like cowards. We got two, though, so hopefully they prove as cowardly during interrogation."

"What happened to you, with all the blood?"

Tonks grimaced. "We'll never know just how deeply the suspect was in. He tried to do a runner, too, tried being the key word. I took off after him, and one of his so-called comrades in arms saw us. I say so-called because he then proceeded to open up the suspect from stem to stern. I was right next to him, so I caught the brunt of the … effects."

"Typical Death Eater," Harry commented. "Kill someone to keep them from revealing information. Just like with Borgin."

"Exactly. Scary, innit? When your enemy will so easily kill the people on his side."

"Yeah." Harry thought about that for a minute. "Do you get scared? When you're dueling like that, I mean."

She took her time answering. "Sometimes. Like, not in the middle of it, of course, adrenaline and instinct take over and I don't really have time to be scared. But afterward … yes, I get scared. I don't want to die, Harry."

"I don't want you to die," he agreed promptly, squeezing her hand. "I mean, no one wants to die, right? I don't."

"You're not going to die," she returned with so much vehemence it startled him. "Let's get that straight."

"Well, I don't intend to," he said, surprised.

She forced out a laugh. "Of course you don't. I'm sorry, I get in these moods sometimes. I suppose seeing someone die right in front of you, whether it was a result of his own choices or not, will do that."

"I bet it does. I'm sorry."

"I'm fine." A long stretch of silence. "The thing is, when I think about it, I don't want to die, but if I could make it mean something? If I could die in place of someone I love … I reckon I could do that, if I had to."

"I know what you mean. Sometimes I think about it," he confessed, feeling the need to be truthful during this strange and morbid conversation. "Not dying, but … I have a hard time picturing the future, a future without Voldemort."

Tonks took her time responding, although he thought her grip on his hand tightened. "I expect when you've had something like that hanging over your shoulder practically your entire life, it's normal, or whatever passes for normal in your life, but it doesn't mean anything, Harry. You can beat him; I know it."

"And how are you so sure?"

"Because you learned from me and I'm awesome."

He laughed, relieved that that stage of the conversation was over. He preferred not to dwell too much on his chances. "So by that line of reasoning, you could defeat him."

"Sure. I'm leaving it to you for good experience. I'd stroll right up, whip out an _Avada Kedavra_, and be home in time for tea."

They shared a laugh. "That is, of course, if you could wake up long enough," Harry teased again.

She rolled her eyes. "Back with the sleeping! I swear I sleep much less than you think. It's one of the first things we teach ourselves in Auror training. I can stay up for far longer than any person should, but on the flip side, I've learned to catch forty winks when I can. Like flipping a switch, I reckon."

"And I'm your switch?"

She threw him a glance, at once teasing and wry and, if he could believe it, almost shy. "You can be. When I'm with you, I feel … happy and relaxed and safe, and that's all conducive to catching up on a nap."

"Happy and relaxed and safe," he repeated, warmth buzzing in his chest. "And that's important to you?"

"Yeah, it is." Tonks stopped walking, turning to face him with a smile, but a shadow fell over her face.

An actual shadow, Harry realized. She paled and stumbled backward a step as if she was pushed, a choked, anguished half-scream, half-cry escaping her lips. He had never seen her look more broken. A second later, Harry spun around and understood why.

Lighting up the sky over her parents' house was the murky green omen of the Dark Mark.


	28. Team

**Team**

_No._

This was not happening. Not here, not now, it just couldn't be.

Tonks stumbled forward. Harry didn't think she was even aware of what she was doing. He took one step to follow –

– and found himself facing her wand.

"What are you –"

"No," she said, her voice cracking but otherwise steady. "We're not going back there."

Harry gaped. "Are you mad? Of course we are! Dora, that's your – that's your …"

"You think I don't know what that means? It's too much of a coincidence, with you being here." If she knew how hard her words hit him, she didn't let on. Her grip on her wand began to loosen like her hand was sweaty. "I'm not letting that happen. If they're – if Mum and Dad – I can't – not you, too. I won't. Not you, Harry."

"Dora, I ..." Every muscle in his body strained to break into a sprint for the house. They couldn't leave them, not with that mark hovering in the sky.

She grabbed his arm and twisted on the spot. Nothing happened. She swore under her breath and marched away, dragging him along. "We're going to find a place to apparate and get you out of here." Her grip began to hurt. Just as suddenly she stopped and released him. "We'll send for help first. Then we'll leave."

While she activated her Auror emergency pendant, Harry sent off as many patronuses as he could, not sure of the limitations on range. Remus, Bill, Mad-Eye, anyone he could think of. Once he was under his invisibility cloak, they set off again, Tonks attempting unsuccessfully to apparate every few yards.

"How many bloody anti-apparition wards did they cast?" she muttered, glancing in all directions. "And not another soul in sight yet. Something's not right …"

"Could be a trap," Harry suggested. The lack of any attack was disturbing, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "They want us to go to the house."

"Of course. That's probably all it is. Mum and Dad are fine, and the Death Eaters are using the Dark Mark as bait. Of course that's what they're doing."

She was clearly trying to convince herself, but Harry was just as eager to believe these people who had opened their home, hearts, and daughter to him were alive and well. He latched onto the hope. "The house is warded, isn't it? They have to be okay."

"Yeah. But how did this happen? No one knows you're –"

Tonks tripped over an exposed root and fell to the ground. It was probably the first time in her life her clumsiness saved her life; not a second afterward, a green jet of light sizzled straight through the space she formerly occupied.

Harry spun on his heel with an impediment jinx. Where a moment earlier there had been no one, a large man in overly tight robes with matted grey hair batted it away and approached. "Here, pretty, pretty," he called through pointed teeth.

Unable to stand by, Harry cast a curse at the same time as Tonks, who jumped to her feet. The assailant managed to block both, a sneer growing on his whiskered face.

"Follow the one and you'll find the other," he said, his voice deep and scratchy. "Come on out, Potter."

"Leave him alone, you sewage-showering monster," Tonks said, holding one arm in front of Harry as she backpedaled, forcing him to move.

He licked his lips. "Pretty and mouthy. I bet you are delicious."

"Bit old for your tastes, aren't I?"

"I've been known to make an exception. And if I'm the one who delivers Potter to the Dark Lord, I'm sure he'll reward me with a … snack."

Harry sent another curse, but the Death Eater was astonishingly quick for his size, moving out of the way so fast he was a blur. A swift shield from Tonks prevented him from moving closer. All three remained in a holding pattern, the Death Eater's eyes sweeping over Harry under the cloak.

"Greyback."

Remus Lupin advanced, wearing a look of fury Harry had never before seen on his scarred face. The second's diversion was enough for both Harry and Tonks to land hits. Greyback sailed backward, roaring in outrage, and Remus had him engaged the moment he landed.

Tonks seized Harry's hand. "Run."

The invisibility cloak flapping behind him, they sprinted, Tonks still trying and failing to apparate. As they dashed into a playground, a masked Death Eater on a broom flew into the opposite end. Without missing a beat Tonks leapt up, grabbed the top of the swing set, and let her momentum swing her forward, kicking the Death Eater squarely under the chin. As he spun out of control, Harry aimed a reductor curse, rewarded with a shower of wooden flakes.

They didn't waste time celebrating. By the increasingly loud noises behind them, reinforcements for both sides had arrived. They charged out of the playground, leaping the gate instead of opening, and dashed into someone's garden, crouching behind a row of shrubbery. Harry tried to stay as quiet as possible while gasping for air.

"We have to go back," he forced out.

"No."

"Dora, I'm not leaving others to fight my battles!"

"You are what they want. Once you're gone, they'll leave off."

Harry grunted in frustration. How did this keep happening? It was like they had some sort of tracking device on him. He considered the idea of Voldemort using the connection between the two, but he dismissed it almost immediately. He was always fairly good at knowing when they were connected, and with his Occlumency training, he was now much more sensitive to touches in his mind. But that still left the question of how.

"This is well planned," she muttered. "They must have cast a series of anti-apparition wards. It's taking too long."

"Too bad you don't have your car."

Her eyes lit up. "Harry, you're brilliant. I could kiss you. And I will, later. Right now …" She looked away.

He followed her gaze, a glint of characteristic mischief shining through the fear that had marred her face since the Dark Mark appeared, across the street at a sleek, shiny vehicle in a neighbor's driveway. "But your car isn't ... no. No way."

"Yes. Much faster than running."

"You can't steal a car."

"It's borrowing. Auror rule number one: use what resources you find. They'll never expect it. Okay, stay under the cloak, follow me across the road, and cover me."

Without waiting she burst out of the shrub and dashed off. Harry had no choice but to follow. He sprinted across the road, sliding to a stop next to Tonks, who had the door open with a wave of her wand and was crouched underneath the steering wheel. Mutters and sparks popped over her shoulder.

He dropped to one knee next to the door, wand up and eyes scanning. He pondered casting a preemptive shield but decided to wait, not wanting to sap his energy. No one following from the garden or playground they'd left behind, no one approaching down the street, no one sneaking up behind from the large and modern house, no one – _uh-oh_. "Dora, we have company."

"Buy me a sec! It takes more than a wave of my wand to start this thing."

"If you could hurry, that would be great." Four Death Eaters clutching brooms, coming from the direction of the Tonkses' house. They hadn't appeared to have spotted them yet. If he held up the invisibility cloak, maybe he could hide them both ...

He was too late. With a barely audible shout of triumph, one pointed, and all four mounted their brooms, kicking off the asphalt.

Harry cast a shield, waiting until they were closer for better aim for a curse. "Dora ..."

"I'm trying! ... Go! Get in!" He dropped his shield and fired a blind jinx. The engine roared to life, and Tonks slipped out of the car, pushing Harry forward to clamber awkwardly over the leather seats and gear stick into the passenger seat. She followed, slamming her door shut just as a spell shattered the window.

Tonks yelled, holding one arm up to shield her face as she floored it in reverse. Harry turned around just in time to see the nearest Death Eater crash into the boot of the car. Tonks shifted, tires spun, and they shot forward fast enough to flatten Harry in his seat.

"Unbreakable charm. Windows," she ordered.

Harry glanced at her as he complied, realizing that with her right hand steering and her wand hand shifting, he would be responsible for protecting the car. Given that it could quite possibly blow up with one good hit to the fuel tank or engine, it was a large order. Tonks shifted as quickly as possible, urging the car to go faster under her breath.

He looked back again. Three masked figures followed in their wake. He knew from experience if their brooms were good enough, they could keep up with the vehicle, especially on these winding neighborhood streets. Taking a deep breath (why, he didn't know), Harry rolled down his window and leaned out.

The car was soon alight with spells. Harry ducked in and out, returning fire as best he could. Tonks tried to help, weaving the car back and forth and taking turns at tire-squealing speed, but it was as much a hindrance to Harry as the Death Eaters.

"Oh shit!" Tonks cried out, jerking the steering wheel.

Harry looked up in time to see a hovering Death Eater directly in front of them, wand drawn back in preparation. As the car turned sideways, Harry pointed his wand in the narrow space in front of Tonks' face, firing a _bombarda_ spell. The Death Eater spiraled out of sight, but Harry didn't have time to celebrate as the car flew over a ditch, landing painfully on the other side. As neither wore a seat belt, both Tonks and Harry bashed their heads on the ceiling. What was of far more concern was the smoky smell that met their nostrils.

"Come on, baby, hold it together," urged Tonks nervously, patting the dash.

They still had pursuers, so Harry left the mechanical worries to her and leaned precariously out the window again. Firing, blocking, ducking … the darkening sky around them lit up like Guy Fawkes' Night. He briefly wondered what the Muggles thought but didn't have time to dwell on it.

He withdrew his head when a curse sizzled past, taking out the side mirror. A returning hex was on his lips immediately, slashing the air as soon as he could aim out the window. His target swerved, allowing the hex to catch the subsequent Death Eater square on, who tumbled from his or her broom, landing in an unmoving heap. Two left – no, only one. Harry frowned when one pulled up and back, abandoning the chase, but he didn't let the thought linger, assuming he was going to get his injured companion. Only one remained.

This Death Eater was so nimble on a broom Harry swore he was a Quidditch player. He dodged every spell Harry cast, every so often throwing an arching curse over the speeding car that landed with a small explosion in front, causing Tonks to swear and jerk the car even more. Harry's wrist ached from the twists and flicks and spins of casting, but he didn't let up. _Come on, Harry, think._ There had to be something.

He ducked back in, took a breath, and watched out the rear window, waiting for the right time. When he saw a flash of blue light, he leaned out again and cast a modified shield at precisely the right moment. The spell rebounded at twice the speed it was cast, finally catching their pursuer. He jerked and slowed, leaning on his broom so awkwardly Harry knew he was hurt. Harry leaned out again to finish him off –

– and yelled when Tonks jerked the wheel at the same time, sending him tumbling out the window. The road flew by, rushing up to meet his face only to stop at the last minute with a lurch. Something had halted his progress out the window, but his entire upper body hung out, his nose mere inches from the road. He crashed against the door as Tonks jerked the car again, and then he was hauled back inside, banging his head on the handle on the ceiling of the car.

"Are you okay?" Tonks gasped, still clenching his belt. She had saved him from falling, although how she managed that while driving Harry didn't know.

"Yeah, I'm – Dora, look out!"

A jet of light from the Death Eater still on the hunt flew past, crashing into some sort of invisible barrier, sending out ripples against the background of the sky. If it hadn't been for that, they never would have seen it. Tonks yanked the wheel as hard as she could and slammed on the brake, sending the back end of the car into a slide. Harry instinctively threw himself against his door and clung to it, trying to get as far away from the incoming crash as he could.

The racket of smashing metal was deafening. The car tilted up on two wheels before slamming down with another bone-rattling jolt. It was dead. Ears ringing and head spinning, Harry fumbled for the door latch, falling out and collapsing on the ground just as the remaining Death Eater approached, limping. Harry rolled over in the nick of time, the curse gouging the asphalt next to his head, and slashed the air at the same time. The Death Eater fell on the ground with a spray of blood from both legs, and Harry finished him off with a stunner to the head. Confiscating his wand, Harry turned around at a groan.

"Dora!"

She pulled herself from the wreckage, grimacing. "That must have been what that Death Eater took off to do," she said, shooting a spell at the barrier they crashed into. Again, ripples spread across the sky before it resolved back into nothing.

"Are you alright?"

"M'fine," she said, but she held her wand in her right hand while her left arm hung at an odd angle.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. Might have hurt my arm holding on to you when we crashed, but it'll be fine. Truss up that Death Eater, toss him in the car, and let's get out of here. The one that made the barrier has to be here somewhere."

With the Death Eater taken care off, they limped away. Harry was surprisingly uninjured beyond bruises and an overall soreness. Tonks again tried to apparate, and let loose with what had to have been every curse word invented when she was unsuccessful.

"I don't like this, Harry. They're herding us. They cut us off and forced me to turn every time I tried to get out of here. Look – we're not too far from the house."

They were, and by both sight and sound, Harry could tell a battle raged under the leering Dark Mark. "I don't understand," he fumed. "Only Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore know I'm here."

"I didn't tell anyone except for Cooper," she agreed. "None of them would rat you out. So how do they know? This has been planned – the first time you step foot outdoors, you get attacked? It's not a coincidence."

"Yeah, well, we'll have to figure it out later." Harry cast another anxious look at the Dark Mark. "Let's go find your parents."

They began to make the trek back, crisscrossing streets, gardens, and hedgerows. It was slow going, attempting to stay under cover and stumbling in the dark, unwilling to use light for fear of giving away their position. Once they scaled a fence into someone's back garden only to hastily scramble back when a very large, very angry dog let it be known their presence was unwelcome. Finally they were only a street away. They approached a darkened house, pressing themselves against the brick. Tonks peeked around the corner, jerking her head back as a spell flew past, ruffling her hair.

"Knew it had been too quiet," she groused. "Well, here goes nothing. Give me a shield, love."

She cast a hex in the direction of the unknown assailant on her way to the neighboring house, and Harry took her position at the corner, firing before she was in place. Having trained together for so long, they fell into an easy rhythm, alternating spells back and forth. Tonks had to fire with her off hand and was slower than normal, but they still kept the Death Eater busy. It didn't take long at all for them to overwhelm him, and when Tonks blasted him backward off his feet, Harry easily knocked him unconscious.

"Good job, babe." Tonks approached, giving him a loose one-armed hug. "I – move!"

She shoved him to one side as a green light flashed before his eyes. He landed hard, awkwardly, jarring his wand from his grasp. He heard Tonks cry out, and he rolled over to see her wand bounce in the grass. She lost her balance when she pushed him, landing on her injured arm. Harry noticed movement in his peripheral vision; their attacker stepped forward, wielding his wand for another curse that surely wouldn't miss this time. Harry lunged for Tonks' wand –

– and watched in confusion as the attacker crumbled, his wand hand severed from his body.

Harry scrambled to his feet and found his wand, pressing Tonks' into her hand as he helped her up. One never knew if help came from a friend or foe. Thankfully the two people that appeared were both familiar and welcome.

"Tonks! Harry!" Cooper jogged toward them. Jason followed, wand still out as he scanned for more enemies. "Thank Merlin we found you. Everyone's looking for you."

"We had to take a detour," explained Tonks. "Tell me what's going on. Have you seen my parents?"

"No. Is the Dark Mark …?"

She looked anguished. "I don't know. We were taking a walk when it appeared. I tried to get Harry away, but they've spread their anti-apparition wards wide."

"We know. We bounced back when we tried to apparate to your location and had to come in on foot," said Jason. He glanced at Harry. "Alright, Potter?"

"Yeah. Hey, thanks for taking out that guy." Jason nodded. His gaze was as unblinking and unfriendly as ever, but it didn't bother Harry as much now. He supposed that when someone saved your life, it created a certain level of trust. "I think Tonks hurt her arm, though."

The two Aurors zeroed their eyes on their young partner, who was too late with her shushing noises at Harry. It took less than a minute for them to suss out the problem.

"Your shoulder's dislocated," Cooper decided. "Sam came with us, but he's with Alex somewhere. Want us to put it back?"

"You have to, it's my wand hand." She held out her right hand to Harry. "Hold my hand, please?"

He did so, watching as she placed her wand between her teeth. Jason held her body still while Cooper carefully manipulated her lower arm toward her body before –

Harry winced, as much because it looked and sounded painful as because Tonks was in danger of crushing his hand. She bore down on her wand, a tear glistening on her cheek in the moonlight.

She gasped when they released her, removing her wand and leaning over with one hand resting on her leg. "Son of a …" she swore, launching into the most colorful description of any person Harry had ever heard.

"You'll be fine," Jason said, not unkindly.

"Course I will. Now come on, I have to find my parents."

They set off into a light jog, taking care to keep all directions covered and making sure turns were clear. Harry was impressed at how smoothly they worked together without saying a word. They were several houses down before Tonks spoke again.

"Say, Cooper – and this is purely hypothetical – how much trouble would an Auror be in if he or she borrowed –"

"Stole," interjected Harry.

She ignored him. "A Muggle's vehicle and then scratched –"

"Crashed."

"– it?"

"Tonks! What did you do?"

"I said hypothetical."

"Can it, both of you," ordered Jason, and that put an end to that.

The group continued leap-frogging house by house until only one more stood between them and the long hill that set the Tonks house apart from the rest. They crouched next to a (thankfully) empty doghouse. The Dark Mark continued to light the night's sky, occasionally flattered by flashes of multi-colored light.

"Cooper, you and Tonks go ahead to the house. Look for her parents and assist where you can. Alex called in reinforcements, but it looks to be widespread. I'll keep Potter safe."

"I want to find Ted and Andi," Harry protested, annoyed that he was being treated like a small child. "I can fight."

"You're the one they want –"

"I can take care of –"

"He's right, Harry, you –"

"Harry goes with me," Tonks announced in a quiet voice that somehow permeated the deeper voices of the men. "Understand? He stays with me."

Harry liked that idea. He moved closer toward her. "I'm going with her."

"I'm in command, Tonks," Jason objected, his eyes more intense than ever. "I'm the best fighter, he'll be safest with me."

"Nothing will ever happen to Harry when I'm with him," she said with that same calm assurance.

"Tonks," Cooper broke in. He looked like he'd been slapped. "We're partners …"

She glanced back and forth between Cooper and Harry several times before stepping close to Cooper, laying her hand on his arm. "Then you know I've been trained by the best. See you in a bit, Coop, yeah?"

Harry had the sense she was asking permission, though he wasn't quite sure for what. Cooper nodded, and Tonks gestured for Harry to follow, striding toward the tree line that ran alongside the field. Jason's swearing faded away.

"I know you don't need me to take care of you," Tonks said abruptly. "But I feel better when we're together. We're a good team, you and I, right?"

Despite the situation, Harry smiled. "Yeah, we're a good team."

They skirted the field. Skirmishes were scattered across it, but none came too terribly close, and they kept away. Harry wanted to help, but more than anything he needed to know if Ted and Andromeda were alright. When they reached the top of the hill, preparing to scale the fence, an explosion rocked the ground beneath their feet. One of the nearby houses had gone up in blindingly orange flames that licked the heavens.

Tonks swore. "Merlin, I hope no one was in that house."

"You don't think – Muggles?" Innocents.

"I don't know, babe. It's Easter – blimey, it is Easter – and so I hope they were out for the holiday. Best not to think about it right now."

Easier said than done, but with a great effort, he dragged his attention back to the present. Kneeling, he made a cradle with his hands, giving Tonks a boost. She hung on the top for a second, peering over the edge, before she swung her feet over and lowered a hand. He jumped up to grab her with one hand and the ledge with the other, wondering how he was going to manage to get over, but that become a moot point when Tonks pulled with surprising strength, hauling him over the wall. Both landed heavily on their feet, although Tonks wavered.

"How did you do that?" he asked, amazed.

"Just that strong," She pretended to flex before dropping the pose, grinning. "Not really. I braced my feet against the wall so I could use my entire body, not just my arms."

"Good idea."

They turned to face the house. Some lights still blazed through windows, but nothing appeared out of place, no signs of a fight.

"We'll go around the back," Tonks decided, and off they went.

Turning a corner, Tonks cried out and rushed forward. Harry was slow to follow even as his brain belatedly realized it was a cry of joy, not terror or anguish. When he made the turn, the rush of relief to his brain was so heady he put a hand on the wall for balance. Tonks was sandwiched between her parents, her blessedly alive and breathing parents, all three embracing at once. They hadn't died because of Harry, adding to the innocent deaths on his conscience.

First Ted and then Andromeda held out a hand, inviting Harry in. He was reluctant to intrude on the family, these people he'd placed in danger, but when they remained insistent, he finally walked forward and threw his arms around them. For a brief moment, the battle around them faded away.

"What happened?" Tonks and Andromeda asked at the same time.

"We saw the Dark Mark, so I tried to get Harry out of here," Tonks explained quickly. "But we were attacked, so we made our way back here."

"They weren't here for us. By pure chance your father happened to glance out a window and see the Death Eaters outside, so we went into that old cupboard. Next thing I knew, Remus Lupin burst into the house, looking for us."

"We sent for help," said Harry. "We thought the Dark Mark was bait to get us back to the house."

"That was smart, as it seems that's exactly what it was."

"Merlin, I thought you were –" Tonks broke off.

"I know, baby." Andromeda hugged her again, pressing a kiss into her hair. "We were worried about you, too. Thank Merlin you're both alright."

"Shouldn't we go?" Harry suggested. He hated to break up the moment, but there was still a battle on.

"Yeah, you're right." Tonks ran a hand through her hair, standing straighter and adopting a more professional tone. "We'll work our way down the hill and try to meet up with the rest of the Aurors to coordinate a battle plan. On the way up it looked like there were a lot of separate, individual duels going on. We'll move from one to the next, helping where we can. Dad, keep an eye on our tail to make sure no one sneaks up behind us."

They did as ordered, moving as one unit. To Harry's untrained eye, it looked as if the fight was winding down. He cursed a Death Eater from behind to aid an unknown Auror, and Tonks took out the knee of another that was fighting Burke, someone Harry was surprised to see. And then halfway down they heard a high-pitched cackle that was familiar to all.

Andromeda and Tonks both turned, wearing identical expressions. "Bella," Andromeda breathed before running toward the sound.

"Dromeda!" Ted followed.

"Mum!" And Tonks made three.

Gripping his wand tighter, Harry went after them. He hated Bellatrix Lestrange more than anyone he knew, nearly as much as Voldemort himself. She had a knack for inspiring hatred, incredibly talented with a sadistic streak to match. She was the reason Harry had ever attempted to cast an Unforgivable. She killed Sirius.

The two sisters engaged each other furiously, wands moving so fast their arms were mere streaks of color. Ted and Tonks stood to the side, looking for a way to join in without hurting Andromeda, and so Harry was the only one who saw the Death Eater approaching on the far side.

He didn't even slow, bursting past the Tonkses to catch the man by surprise, his cutting hex slicing across a leg. The man stumbled but remained standing. Harry diverted a curse into a tree, which burst into flames, and spun. His stunner went wide. Harry kept moving, trying to gain the offensive and cast more than he parried. He ducked and dodged and dropped to a knee, using shields to return curses to their owner and sliding to one side to catch the Death Eater from different angles, forcing him to move on his injured leg.

Harry aimed two successive stinging hexes at his wand hand, but the extra time it took cost him. A jet of light aimed straight for his chest, and his shield was too hasty and too flimsy, shattering on impact. It absorbed the effects of the curse, but Harry still flew backward into a tree, losing his breath. He dropped to all fours and looked up, seeing one last chance. He slashed the air, aiming not for the Death Eater but for the burning limb of the tree above him. It crashed onto his head, and the Death Eater dropped limply. Harry trudged forward, making sure the man wasn't burning to death and securing him.

Having seen Tonks do the same thing, he cast blue sparks in the air, waiting for a Ministry transport crew to show up, which one did in a few minutes.

"Blimey," the young man squeaked, staring. "You're –"

Harry cut him off, not wanting to waste time. "Death Eater over there. His wand's in two pieces next to him."

He broke into a run without waiting for a response, anxious to see what was happening with Bellatrix. The fight had moved further down the hill, and as Harry approached he could see that Bellatrix had taken on all three at once. Other figures, some in Auror robes, were headed toward her as well, and when Bellatrix saw them, she pointed her wand at the sky, releasing a jet of very light green that was so bright it lit up the entire sky, and then she disapparated. Four spells collided moments later where she had just been.

"How did she do that?" Harry asked.

Tonks brushed sweat from her forehead, leaving a dark red streak where blood trickled from her hairline. "Removed the anti-apparition ward. And listen – it must have been a signal." Other pops of apparition could be heard.

"I think that means we won, right?"

"Won is relative, sweets. They were simply overwhelmed by numbers. Let's go find everyone else. You okay? I saw you run off." When he assured her he was, she turned to her parents. "Are you coming?"

Andromeda didn't respond, her eyes shining as she stared at the place her sister had stood so recently. Ted put his arm around her. "Go on, sweetheart. We'll catch up in a moment."

Hands entwined, Harry and Tonks trekked toward the bottom of the hill. All around them, Ministry officials took away shackled prisoners, treated minor wounds, and dealt with Muggles. Harry suspected the Obliviators would be working overtime. He was curious to see what story they'd come up with.

But he was even more concerned about what had just occurred. How did they know Harry was there? And why come after him? Was it just that Voldemort wanted him, or was it something more, some sort of plot he specifically needed Harry for, just like the previous two years? He couldn't squash a growing anxiety that Malfoy's task was merely the tip of the iceberg, and his arrest wasn't quite the success Harry first thought.

A crowd gathered near the still-smoldering house. Some worked to douse the flames, powerful jets of water spitting out of their wands, but the majority stood around something in the center. They drew closer, and a few people shifted, allowing Harry to see two bodies on the ground – one flat and unmoving, the other frantically waving a wand.

Tonks came to a halt. Her mouth fell open, but nothing but a noise less than a groan emerged. She dropped Harry's hand, staggering forward a few steps before breaking into a run. It didn't take Harry long to recognize the shock of red hair on one, nor the shaggy blond mop on the other.

Tonks dropped to her knees beside Cooper. "Coop? Coop … I'm here. It's me. I'm here." His eyes, wide and staring, searched hers. One shaking hand reached out, and she grasped it, bringing it to her cheek. "Hey. I'm here now. You're going to be okay, do you hear me?"

"Tonks …" His wheezing voice held the gasping rattle of the dying.

She leaned forward, pressing her mouth against his. When she straightened, her lips shone crimson. "I know."

"Ny … Nymphadora," he rasped.

Harry's chest was seized by something heavy and painful. He found he couldn't look away. Though Sam worked in a frenzy, blood continued to trickle out of Cooper's nose and mouth. His torso was a mess, shredded and burned and … open. Onlookers were silent. Harry saw Alex leaning on Jason, favoring one leg. Remus, clothing torn to bits. Ted and Andromeda, she with one hand over her mouth. McGonagall, face grave.

Sam's arm ceased its movement, and his Adam's apple visibly jumped as he swallowed. Tonks looked up, her eyes flashing.

"Do it again." Harry had thought her tone bossy on the occasions when she directed those words at him, but this time there was simply no room for argument.

The pain on Sam's face was clear. "Tonks, he's –"

"No. You will do it again." Arm trembling as much as her voice, she raised her wand. "You're wasting time."

Alex limped forward, and Tonks shot him a warning look. In that instant Harry truly believed she would curse anyone who interfered. Holding one hand up, Sam bent over Cooper again, pouring a small bottle into his mouth before waving his wand in a certain pattern, flashes of light flickering. Even Harry could see it wasn't working. A spell could knit wounds. A potion could replenish blood. But the mystery of life and death was stronger than any magic, and nothing could restore the light to his once-bright eyes.

Eventually Sam stopped his efforts and looked up, tears streaking his rosy cheeks. "I – I can't, there's nothing – I can't."

Tonks shoved the mediwizard away, sending him sprawling on the ground. She began the same wand movements, whispering. At first Harry thought she was too worked up for nonverbal incantations, but then he made out her words. She wasn't casting.

She was pleading.

"Please, Coop, don't do this. You can't leave me, I won't let you. Please, I know you're in there, come back. I love you. You have to be okay, don't you understand? If you love me, don't go. You can't – I can't. Please don't do this to me …"

Over and over Tonks waved her wand. Over and over she begged, her free hand stroking his face, hair, hand, chest.

Harry was no stranger to death, but he had never had to linger afterward like this. There was always something else for him to do. Dueling the resurrected Voldemort. A murderous chase after Bellatrix Lestrange. Only later did he deal with the dead body, the emptiness. But this was a new kind of torture. He wanted to look away, wanted to run, wanted to stop Tonks, wanted a man he looked up to and considered a friend to rise from the dirt. He wanted it to be over. But all Harry could do was watch Tonks fall apart as her futile efforts went unanswered.

Finally Alex stepped in, trying to pull Tonks to her feet. "Tonks, you can't do anything." Though he was twice her size, she shrugged him off effortlessly. "Auror Tonks, stand down." Still she jerked away. "Nymphadora, please."

His superior physical strength won out, and Alex actually lifted her off the ground, backing away from Cooper. From Cooper's body.

Tonks thrashed against his hold, screaming, "He's not! He's not! Put me down!" Her legs, several inches off the ground, kicked hard, but Alex didn't budge.

Harry couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stand there and stare at Cooper's lifeless body, at an openly crying Sam, at a destabilizing Tonks. He was at Alex's side, pulling Tonks into his arms. "Let me."

"Harry, please!"

"I'm sorry."

"NO!"

"Dora, he's – he's gone."

She finally fell silent, limp in his arms, and the lump in his throat was so large he couldn't breathe. Harry had thought, earlier that same evening, that he had never seen Tonks more broken. But he had been wrong.


	29. Cooper

**Author's Note: **Given the reviews for last chapter, I feel the need to say something to those readers who didn't review: don't jump to any conclusions or read too much into the last scene. Now, bear with me through a bit of angst, but don't worry, it won't be dragged out & you'll have many questions answered very soon.

* * *

><p><strong>Cooper<strong>

Andromeda held tightly to Ted's arm as they found seats. The cemetery was bursting, nearly every chair taken, and stone-faced Aurors in formal black dress robes with the maroon Auror Office logo embroidered over their hearts bordered the grounds. A closed casket rested at the front with a few chairs behind it and a podium to one side. She couldn't take her eyes off it the entire way up the aisle.

Families of Cooper's team were reserved seats in the second row. Andromeda wound up directly behind Maureen Cooper. She stared at the back of the woman's head, which was bowed, gazing down at her lap. Her occasionally trembling shoulders were the only sign of grief.

Next to her, Dee Renaud squeezed Andromeda's hand. Her eyes were red-rimmed. Beyond her, the Renauds' two children sat solemnly, wide-eyed and quiet. Samuel's parents were on the end. All knew each other from various team functions. Nymphadora often referred to the team as a family.

Dee leaned over, whispering, "It's just awful, isn't it?"

Andromeda could only nod. She had known Cooper for over four years. A frequent visitor at their house, Nymphadora brought him over more often than any boyfriend. Indeed, Andromeda had often hoped Nymphadora would return his feelings; however, unlike everyone else including her own husband, she suspected her daughter knew exactly how Cooper felt about her. Why she chose to pretend as if she didn't was her own secret. Andromeda had grown to admire the young man, grateful that her daughter had someone like him to keep her safe, a man who would had given his life for her without a second thought. And here her throat tightened again, for he had, if not for her than for someone else.

She glanced again at Maureen Cooper, living the nightmare of every loved one of an Auror, something that had cost Andromeda more than a little sleep since the day her fourteen-year-old daughter came home from Hogwarts and announced her intention to become one. Nymphadora, with all the stubbornness and passion of the Blacks, hadn't wavered from that decision once.

"How is Tonks holding up?"

Again, words failed her. _She isn't_, Andromeda thought. Nymphadora hadn't said a word, not when Andromeda had taken her back to the house, stripped her out of her soiled and bloody clothing, and put her to bed with a dreamless sleep potion, and not in the days since. Ted worried about shock, but Andromeda thought that wasn't the case. She functioned without any assistance; it was simply that she didn't have anything to say. No, Andromeda knew the signs of a broken heart.

"Like you'd expect," she finally said. "And Alex? This must be so hard on him."

Dee nodded. "He looks at them almost as if they're his children, in a way, you know. He's watching all of them come up through the department. And he's worried about the others, too. I simply can't believe this."

The crowd quieted, and Andromeda turned to see the Minister of Magic walking toward the front. It was time. Alex, Jason, Nymphadora, and Samuel followed, a distinct gap in between Jason and Nymphadora. Cooper's place.

Andromeda's eyes blurred instantly, her heart sitting heavy in her chest. For the too-short life of Cooper himself, for the woman in front of her left all alone in the world, for the realization of a scene so similar to the one in her nightmares. Ted's hand squeezed hers, knowing her thoughts as well as his own, and she forced herself to focus.

Scrimgeour rose and said a few words. Andromeda would forget them the moment he finished, but at the time she knew they were more than just trite clichés. She thought of Scrimgeour as a true politician, albeit a much more effective leader than his predecessor, but he had known Cooper personally in his time as Head Auror, and his words were laced with true regret at a promising life cut short.

Alex was next. He had to stop to steady himself more than once, and the emotion leaked into Andromeda's already shaky composure. She watched Maureen struggle to hold it together, wondering if she should attempt to comfort the bereaved mother. But what could she say? If, Merlin forbid, she ever lost Nymphadora, there would be nothing in the world that could assuage her grief.

And speaking of her daughter ... she rose to succeed Alex. Despite a face that was etched out of stone, Andromeda thought she looked lovely, the realization it was one of the few times she approved of her daughter's appearance bittersweet. She wondered if Nymphadora knew that with the black hair and dark eyes she looked nothing like the Tonks she wanted to be and everything like the Black she didn't.

Nymphadora stood at the podium, staring at a sheet of parchment. She opened her mouth, and closed it, and opened and closed it again. There were no tears, no loss of composure, just ... nothing. It was as if she'd forgotten how to speak.

Without knowing what she was doing, Andromeda rose, stepped past her husband, and walked toward the podium, unaware that all eyes were on her.

"It's okay, baby," she whispered to her daughter, taking her hand. "I'll do it." Holding her wand to her throat, she whispered, "_Sonorus._" To the crowd, "My daughter was Auror Cooper's partner."

Then, with a deep breath, she read the words her daughter had somehow found the presence of mind to write.

"Two years ago I reported to Coop's office with the enthusiasm that only a rookie could have. He took one look at my bright pink hair and said, 'Oh bloody hell, what did I get myself into?' I know I gave him cause to repeat those words more than once. With the arrogant assurance of a brand new Auror, I assumed that after ten years of school and training, I knew everything. I was ready to go into the world and prove myself, taking down dark wizards on a daily basis, home for dinner by six every night."

Some of the Aurors chuckled, and even Scrimgeour allowed a smile.

"The error of that statement was my first lesson. Coop taught me more than I knew any one person could teach another, whether it was the best way to interrogate a suspect, that the Clash are better than the Sex Pistols, or to never eat the steak and kidney pie in the Ministry canteen. However, he never managed to convince me to switch my Quidditch team to Montrose, though not for lack of trying.

"With a mutual dislike for our given names and a shared affinity for dim sum, Coop became far more than a work colleague. He was more than my teammate, more than my partner. He was my best friend. I have shown up at his door at four in the morning, soaking wet, crying over a broken heart. I have fire-called him at midnight begging for help because I was too pissed to apparate home. I have curled up on his sofa with the flu while he made me chicken soup and held my hair when I was sick all over his carpet. And never once did he complain or ask for something in return. He was simply there.

"He saved my life on more than one occasion. He deflected curses, convinced me not to go through with daft ideas, and carried me out of the lowest point in my life. He was there for me at a time when no one else was. There are people in your life that think will always be there. Your dog. Your parents. The aunt who's more like a big sister. The best mate who survived puberty with you. Lesley Cooper was one of those people."

Here Andromeda paused, for the words referred to events of which she was unaware. She wasn't thick enough to believe she knew every facet of her daughter's life, but she couldn't help wondering what she had missed, and, if Cooper had always been there, why they had once gone several months without talking.

"And I don't know what I'm going to do without him," Nymphadora said out of the blue, only audible to her mother.

Shaken, Andromeda returned to her seat, gratefully leaning into the arm Ted put around her. "You were wonderful, darling," he murmured into her hair.

Only one thing remained. The four teammates dispersed, one to each corner of the casket, while the Minister stepped aside, vanishing the chairs. As one, the Aurors pointed their wand at their corner, levitating it back and into the waiting hole in the ground. It took another wave of their wands for dirt to fill in and cover it, level with the surrounding ground. A tombstone was already in place. At this Maureen let out her first sob, causing both Andromeda and Dee to reach forward and grip her shoulders.

At Alex's barked orders, the team moved with military precision to stand behind the grave, placing their left hands behind their backs and pointing their wands at the sky over the heads of the crowd. Then, upon another command, they fired a burst of white sparks accompanied by a loud bang. Many of the crowd flinched. Twice more this was repeated. When they finished, lowering their wands, the guard of Aurors around the cemetery raised their own wands directly skyward, lighting them in unison. Only then did the Minister and Cooper's team depart.

As she and Dee helped Maureen Cooper down the aisle, Andromeda cast one long look back at Cooper's grave, unable to shake the dread that settled on top of her sadness.

**oOo**

Harry lay flat on his back on his four-poster. Ron's snores had long since filled the room, but sleep wasn't in the picture for Harry.

Today was the funeral. He hadn't bothered to ask McGonagall if he could go, knowing her answer would be no, but it was for the best. With his luck, the Death Eaters would attack halfway through.

He still couldn't believe Cooper was dead. Aurors weren't supposed to die. And no one should have to die because they showed up to protect Harry. Well, no more. He would stay at Hogwarts until term ended and return to Privet Drive, extending his mother's protection until his seventeenth birthday. And then ... he didn't know. Maybe he'd hide out at Order headquarters in Grimmauld Place, with all its wards and protections, until he returned to Hogwarts for his final year, no matter how much he hated the place. He surely wasn't going to endanger the Tonkses any more, nor the Weasleys.

McGonagall had escorted him back to Hogwarts shortly after Ted took him back to their house. Harry came without protest and went straight to his bed, pulling his curtains shut against Ron and Neville's surprised queries about his sudden return. It was all in the _Daily Prophet_ the next day, Harry's name front and center. He'd avoided his friends in the days since, eating at odd times, spending his time either on the Quidditch pitch or in the Room of Requirement, studying and practicing every spell he could think of, swearing that the next time Voldemort sent his Death Eaters after him (and he would), Harry would be ready.

The upside of this was that it left him exhausted, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but today was different. He couldn't get his mind to stop, wondering what the funeral was like, if Cooper had been in much pain, who had done it, how the other Aurors were holding up, how they'd found out Harry had left Hogwarts. How Tonks was.

She was back in the castle. He hadn't seen her since he left her parents' house, but that hadn't stopped him from gazing at her quarters on the Marauder's Map during his infrequent downtimes. Why, he wasn't sure. He didn't expect her back, not this soon. And what would he do if he saw her? Comfort, apologize, kiss, stay away … the one thing Harry was very uneasily sure of was that they had turned a page, and he didn't know if he wanted to read it. He feared she would blame him; moreover, he feared she should blame him.

That did it. The inability to be still that had consumed him since the attack reared its head again, and Harry stealthily slipped past the curtains of his bed, throwing the invisibility cloak around his shoulders.

He muffled the sound of his shoes and consulted the map at every turn and intersection, unwilling to take any chances of being caught out of bed. When he arrived at the familiar wooden door, he examined it for a long moment before knocking.

It swung open a few seconds later. The room was dark except for the flickers of a fire, and it was scattered with what appeared to be some sort of bland confetti. Tonks sat on the chesterfield, facing the fire, feet propped on the table.

"Harry Potter," she drawled without looking at him.

"How did you know?"

"No one else comes to my room in the middle of the night. Here. Sit. Drink." She conjured a glass as she spoke, filling it from the bottle clutched in her hand, and shoved it in his face when he sat next to her. He took a sniff and grimaced, his eyes watering. She didn't bother with a glass, swigging straight from the bottle.

"I suppose asking how you are would be a stupid question."

"Right you are, Harry."

"As would asking about the funeral."

"Two for two, you're on a roll."

She leaned forward, scribbling something on a roll of parchment that was spread across the table. Tearing off the written scrap and balling it up, she threw it into the air and aimed like a sniper with her wand, blasting it into miniscule pieces.

_That explains the confetti. Sort of._ "Is it safe to ask what you're doing?"

"Oh, you can ask."

"But you won't answer?"

She took her time, blasting away another mystery and taking another long drink. "Why not? These, my dearest Harry, are memories." _Of Cooper_, Harry finished silently. Who else? "I'm going to get rid of them all," she announced thickly. "And then it won't – it won't –" She tried to take another drink, realized the bottle was empty, and threw it into the fireplace, startling both Harry and the fire, which roared.

"How long have you been drinking?" he asked, voicing a suspicion he'd had since he walked in the door.

"When was the funeral?" was his answer.

_Wow._ "You're drunk." He wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question.

For the first time she turned her gaze on him. Her eyes, reflecting the dancing flames, were dark pits, matching her long black hair, some locks pinned up at the back of her head while the rest tumbled down her back. He'd never seen her with black hair. When he noticed the black dress, he figured she hadn't changed after the funeral.

Surprising him, she reached out to cup his cheek. "Not nearly enough, sweets, not nearly enough."

Gone was the taunting lilt her voice had carried thus far, leaving something infinitely more real and raw in its place. It was this that pushed Harry to grab her hand when she made to pull it away. "I'm sorry, Dora, I'm so sorry."

"No." Wrath flashed in her eyes like a summertime lightning storm. "Don't be a prat, Harry. I'm not going to let you take the blame for this like you try to take the blame for every other bad thing that's ever happened."

"But it's –"

"Not your fault. Do you hear me? Don't go trying that bullshit on me. I can't be angry at you, and I very much want to be angry about this. I can deal with being angry. I can live being angry. I can't – I'm going to be angry. I get one day, right?" With some difficulty she held up one finger. "One day to hate the world and everything about it before I have to go on."

"Dora ..."

"Watch this." She clapped and watched the table. A second later, a new bottle of firewhiskey appeared. "I bloody love house-elves. Drink."

Harry obediently lifted the glass to his mouth. Even wetting his lips burned, but Tonks seemed satisfied with that. Chugging from the bottle, she continued with her task.

He didn't know what to do. She clearly wasn't in the mood for comfort. But who was he to judge? After Sirius died, he had sometimes laid in his bed in a lethargic coma for hours at a time, and he'd let the state of his room drop to nearly unhealthy standards the summer after Voldemort returned and Cedric died. If she wanted to drink herself into a stupor and litter her room with scraps of parchment, that was fine. He was under no illusion that she would hesitate to tell him off if she didn't want him, so he would content himself with just being here.

He glanced at the parchment, watching her scribble. Most of the words and phrases meant nothing to him, but occasionally Tonks let slip a half-hearted chuckle.

_1993 Puddlemere United v. Montrose_

_spaghetti Bolognese_

_Stealth and Tracking for Dummies_

_the purple robe debate_

_Operation Get Sam Laid_

_ides of March_

_Adam versus Eve_

_19 April 1994_

"What happened on April 19, 1994?" Harry asked, unable to restrain his curiosity.

She gazed in the direction of the fire, but whatever she was looking at, it wasn't in the here and now. Harry had the sudden fear that he'd crossed some horrible line.

"That was the day that never happened," she said softly. "It never, ever happened." She shook her head, taking a long pull of firewhiskey. "Never mind," she said in a brisk tone. "It doesn't matter now. Nothing bloody matters. Drink."

Tonks leaned back, her face filled with bleak pain. Despite knowing firsthand that grief was something that simply had to run its course, Harry couldn't stand seeing her like this, wishing there was something he could say or do. Tonks was one of those people who were born to smile.

"I didn't think you'd be back at Hogwarts so soon," he tried.

She shrugged. "What else was I supposed to do? Sit at home and let my mummy fuss over me? Bugger that. I can't go to work, so where else would I go?"

"Why can't you go to work?"

"Standard procedure when a team – when we – when someone is lost. The team goes on paid leave while the AO conducts an internal investigation. Cos, you know, perhaps we did something wrong, right?" she spat bitterly, her words slurring. "And then – get this, it's brilliant – we have to meet with a Ministry-appointed counselor who has to sign off on each of us before we return to work. Cos losing a teammate might just make us go off our rockers. Some bleeding stranger who doesn't know shit about me or my life."

"I expect it will help if you aren't drunk when you go," he suggested, trying to keep his tone light.

Thankfully, she laughed, even if it was overly loud. "That's good advice, babe. And it doesn't matter much anyway, I suppose. I'm in deep shit over that car, and it's not like I have any cases to work on."

Harry frowned. "What about Malfoy? Isn't his trial coming up?"

"Didn't I tell you?" Tonks took another drink, rolling it around her mouth before swallowing. Her throat had to be numb by now. "I have been removed from the Malfoy case."

He nearly dropped his glass, which would have sucked because he was only pretending to drink and it was nearly full. "What? How did that happen?"

"Apparently I am incapable of controlling my temper, as well as being considered a conflict of interest due to the fact that our mothers came from the same loins. Convenient, isn't it?"

He wasn't sure what bothered him more: her flippant tone, that she hadn't told him, or that she'd been removed in the first place. "When did this happen?"

"Week or so after he was arrested."

"What? And you didn't think I might want to know?"

"I'm sorry, I forgot I report to you. Renaud, Robards, Thicknesse, Scrimgeour, and Potter. There's my chain of command. Drink."

"That's not fair, Dora."

"What's not fair is you demanding I tell you everything about my job. I'm the Auror, Harry, not you."

"Cut the crap," he snapped. "You know how invested I am in getting Malfoy locked up. I'd like to think you would have the courtesy to tell me something as important as this. And even more, I'd like to think that we're close enough that you would want to tell me what goes on in your life. You are so closed off sometimes!"

"Well, that's my problem and not yours!" she returned. "Mine. I mean, that's pretty much all I have right now, innit? Problems. My best friend in the entire world is dead, my career is headed into the sewer, and, oh yeah, my boyfriend is a teenage virgin. Well, there's one thing I can take care of." She stood, rotating so her back was to him. "Zipper."

"Er, what?"

"Zip-per," she enunciated. "Unzip my damn dress, Harry."

He blinked. "Why?"

The sigh she emitted was chock full of condescending frustration. Not exactly a turn-on. "So we can get that pesky virginity issue out of the way. We're alone, Harry, and no one's going to bother us tonight. You've wanted this for months; now's our chance."

She snatched her wand and swiped it at her back, making the zipper shoot down with such vigor it kept going and ripped the dress. Tonks didn't seem to mind in the least, letting the dress fall to the ground so she could step out and spin around. Harry's hormones completely ignored his annoyance with her and immediately focused on the black bra and knickers, so very silky and surprisingly girly.

"Clothes. Off," she whispered, winding her arms around his neck and letting her lips wander across his jaw.

Harry groaned. Perhaps it wasn't the scenario he'd imagined, but if it made her feel better, who was he to deny either one of them something they very much desired? He lost his shirt and trousers in record time, stumbling across the room in only pants and socks as Tonks pursued him with a vigor unlike he'd ever seen before.

They crashed onto her bed in a tumble of limbs. Harry found himself crouched atop Tonks, kissing and teasing from her navel to her throat as she squirmed and giggled beneath him. Her skin was hotter than ever.

"Nymphadora," he moaned as her hands did some exploring of their own.

"Don't – mmm – call me that." She wound one hand around his neck and pulled him in for a searing kiss, wet and open-mouthed.

He couldn't help a grimace at the bitter taste of whiskey on her breath. And with that, everything came back into focus. He withdrew slightly.

"What?" she asked, noticing he'd stilled and meeting his searching gaze with glassy eyes.

Glassy eyes and whiskey-fueled breath and so very, utterly drunk. He wasn't going to do this. With a tremendous effort, Harry rolled away, turning from her as he found his clothes.

"What's wrong?" she demanded.

"You're, well, you're drunk, Dora."

"So?"

"So I'm not going to do this when you're wasted."

"Aren't you the romantic gentleman?" she mocked.

He chanced a look, which was a mistake. Propped on her elbows with one long leg slightly raised, she still presented a very tempting picture even while wearing a smirk. "It's not that. But we're not doing … _it_ like this."

"Whatever. Fuck you, Harry. Or," accompanied by a sardonic laugh, "not, as it seems."

"You know what, Dora? I know you're grieving, and you certainly have that right, but if I'm being honest, I don't like you right now."

She laughed again. "What a coincidence. I don't much like me right now." All but falling off the bed, she righted herself, wavered, and stumbled in the direction of the fireplace, reclaiming her bottle of firewhiskey. "Why are you here, Harry?" she asked, sounding impossibly weary.

Why, indeed. He wasn't the one she wanted; he was sure of that. "Because I care about you," he said honestly. "You're hurting, and I just want to be here for you, even if you're being a – a …"

"Say what you mean, babe. 'Bitch' is probably what you're looking for."

"Right. A bitch, then. You can push me away all you want, but I'm not going anywhere. In a weird way, it's kind of what Cooper wanted." He regretted those words the instant they escaped his mouth.

He knew Tonks well enough to label her voice as dangerous when she spoke next, turning to face him in a very deliberate manner. "What did you just say?"

"I …"

"Harry Potter, what did you say?"

"I didn't mean it like that."

"How the hell did you mean it?"

"It's only that he told me once not to give up on you, that if I really cared about you I would stick around when you pushed me away."

She stood. "How dare you." Suddenly she didn't seem nearly as drunk.

"What?"

"You had no right talking to him about me. What else did he tell you?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me the truth, Harry."

"I am!"

"Then get out."

"No," he retorted, stung. "We're not finished."

"I said go!" Tonks shouted, pointing the bottle at the door.

He didn't budge. The chesterfield stood between them. "I told you exactly what he said. I would never lie to you."

"Oh, so it just came up out of nowhere, like one minute you're discussing Quidditch and the next he's giving you relationship advice?" she scoffed.

"It wasn't like that. He just wanted you to be happy."

"I'm the one who was his best friend. You think I don't know that?" she snapped.

"Who knows, because you sure as hell did a good job of missing the fact that he was in love with you!" Harry fired back, beyond caring.

She leveled him with a look of scorn. "And who says I didn't know?" That left him briefly speechless. "I know what everyone thinks. Poor lovelorn Cooper, poor oblivious Tonks. I spent more time with him than anyone over the last five years. Do you truly believe I could miss that?"

"But – but, you never – you didn't –"

"Was I supposed to put a sign on my back announcing it to the world? What was between Cooper and I was between us. No one else. If I let everyone think I didn't know, that's my business."

Harry shook his head. "What was it with you two? He was in love with you, and you knew, but you pretended not to? And then you go off and tell him you love him when it's too late? What kind of screwed up relationship is that? Did you two sleep together or something?"

She froze, and suddenly everything changed. They remained like that for a few seconds, neither speaking nor moving, until finally she looked away.

"Harry, don't –"

"No, I want to know." His voice sound foreign over the roaring in his ears: calm, strong, devoid of inflection. "Did you shag Cooper?"

Her silence was an answer in and of itself, but Harry wanted her to admit it. Jaw clenched so tightly it was in danger of cracking, he held her gaze when it returned, waiting. Her face was expressionless when she nodded, once, twice.

With that Harry spun on his heel and marched for the door.

"Harry, wait, it's not what –"

He slammed the door behind him.


	30. Amends

**Amends**

At first Tonks wanted to ignore the knocking at the door. Merlin knew she wasn't in the mood for conversation, and she was certain it wasn't the one person in the castle she wanted. In fact, she had probably made sure he'd never seek her on the map again.

But the knocking continued, and finally Tonks opened the door, blinking in surprise. "Bill? What are you doing here?"

"I heard ... I'm so sorry."

Tonks averted her gaze. "Yeah. Thanks. How did you know I was here?"

"Is it okay if I come in?"

"Oh, sorry. Of course." She left him to close the door, dropping into a chair.

Bill sat on the chesterfield. "Technically, I'm here patrolling for Dumbledore."

"Right, right." She had forgotten he had Order members patrol the castle when he was out.

"I went by your parents' house earlier to see you, and your mother told me you came back to Hogwarts."

"She always liked you." Not knowing what Bill wanted her to say, Tonks fell silent.

Reaching across the gap between them, he surprised her by taking her hand loosely. "Do you want to talk about it? No offense, but you look like hell."

Tonks forced one dry chuckle. "To be honest, I got completely pissed last night."

"I don't blame you. I know how close you were." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I'd probably do the same. I don't suppose you feel any better?"

"Not at all."

"Didn't figure. Listen, I know nothing I say will help. Is there anything at all I can do? Bring you another bottle of firewhiskey and vanish your sick?"

She winced. "That's the last thing I need, another drunken stampede across someone's feelings."

"What?"

_Shut your bloody mouth for once, Tonks._ Then again, Bill did know her better than most. "Bill," she began hesitantly. "When you and I dated, was I a terrible girlfriend? Be honest."

He examined her for a minute before dropping her hand and leaning back. "Why don't you tell me what's going on?"

Sighing, Tonks launched into a slightly abridged tale of her aborted night with Harry. There were things even Bill didn't know about her past. When she finished, Bill was quiet for a long moment, and when he stood up, she braced for impact.

"Let me make sure I have this clear," he began, his tone cold. "You got drunk, tried to make a man of Harry, and when he did the right thing and turned you down, you told him off?"

It sounded even worse when someone else said it. "Well, yes," Tonks whispered, pulling a polka-dotted blanket over her head to hide from his accusing eyes. "But there's more to it than that."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Tonks?" Bill demanded, yanking the blanket from her grasp and tossing it away.

"So many things."

"Really? You want to joke?"

"I know I screwed up."

"You think? It doesn't matter how much you were hurting or how drunk you were, that's no excuse to be an asshole. It would be hard for me to walk away in that situation –"

"Which he did, walked right out," she muttered.

Bill continued, ignoring her aside. "But Harry ... for Merlin's sake, he's a sixteen-year-old virgin, with all that entails. What other teenage boy do you know that would have done anything other than jump in with full sail ahead?"

"I know, Bill!" She sprang to her feet. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me what you think you're doing with Harry." Bill glared at her, and Tonks felt the first stirrings of anger.

"Are you seriously asking me what my intentions are?" she scoffed.

"Not in so many words, but yes." Bill started to pace restlessly. "Harry's had a hard life, Tonks, and the last thing he needs is to be screwed over by someone who is supposed to be protecting him."

"You know, everyone goes on about protecting Harry, but no one seems to realize he's pretty damn well capable of protecting himself."

"Don't be ridiculous. Dueling Death Eaters is different than dealing with the attentions of an emotionally unavailable older woman."

Tonks laughed harshly. "I didn't know you changed careers. Care to tell me anything else about myself?"

Bill frowned. "You know exactly what I mean. What are you doing with Harry?"

"We're just having fun, Bill!" Tonks protested, waving her arms. "Or we were. You said it yourself; Harry hasn't had much fun in his life."

It was Bill's turn to laugh. "Last night sounds like a smashing good time."

"Last night was a snafu. We'll apologize and move on."

He stared at her in disbelief. "You are in such denial! Let me share something, Tonks: Harry is arse over tits for you. It took one look at Christmas to recognize that. Last night was evidence of that. Someone in it for fun would have shagged you without a second thought. Only someone who truly cares about you, about what is between you, would have walked away."

There it was, the walking away again. But she couldn't tell Bill that part. Uncomfortable, Tonks tugged at the neck of her shirt. "Bill –"

"I'm not done," he interrupted heatedly. "We all think you could be good for Harry; that's why no one objects to your relationship even though by all rights it ought to be ended. You really are too old for him, but everyone wants him to be happy."

"I care about Harry, too," Tonks mumbled defensively.

"I know." Bill's tone softened. "Then why are you so willing to run away?"

"Who said anything about running away?"

"Come off it, Tonks! That's what you do and you know it. It's exactly what happened with us. You were hot, hot, hot, and suddenly you were ice cold." Bill turned away, running a hand over his long hair. "You broke my heart shamelessly, and you'll break his if you keep on like this."

"If that's what this is about ..." Tonks felt blindsided. There hadn't been anything between her and Bill in a long time.

"Don't flatter yourself," interrupted Bill abruptly. "I was over you long ago. I love Fleur. But the fact remains that that's what you did. I don't know if you have commitment issues or if all you want is simply a good time. Whatever it is, you need to take a long, hard look at yourself and figure out where this is going. Whether you know it or not, I do think you care deeply for Harry."

"I –" she started, then stopped, ten kinds of confused.

"So you need to not only figure out how to apologize for how much you fucked up his head last night, but you need to decide if someday you can pursue an actual relationship with Harry. Because if you can't, if you get scared or bored or whatever it is that you do, you need to end it now or you'll both wind up in heartbreak. And believe me, you don't want to feel that way."

That touched a nerve. "You don't know anything about me, Bill Weasley," Tonks snapped. "You think I don't know what that feels like? Sod off."

"Just think about what I said. I should go now. I'm sorry about Cooper." Bill kissed her cheek, but Tonks, forced to confront emotions both old and new, barely noticed. Heading for the doorway, he paused. "And Nymph?" The use of the old nickname caught her attention, making her look up. "Harry's not the only one I care about in this situation."

**oOo**

_Dear Harry,_

_There's so much I want to say, but I'm no good with words. I've been sitting here for half an hour and all I came up with is this:_

_I'm sorry._

_With love,_  
><em>Tonks<em>

_P.S. –_  
><em>I should have said this in person, but I'm no Gryffindor.<em>  
><em>NT<em>

Harry read the note he'd found on his bed again. _I'm sorry._ He didn't know whether to be relieved or cross. He'd spent the intervening day drifting between anger that she'd kept that from him and then thrown it in his face when he was trying to be supportive, regret that he'd walked away when she needed him most, and some sort of panic that she was slipping away from him. Whatever his mood, he snapped at anyone who approached until Ginny told him off.

The problem was that he didn't know what part was Tonks grieving or drunk, and what was just Tonks. He knew from experience that she was very good at putting up walls when she didn't want to talk about something, so he didn't know how she dealt with things.

Crumpling the note and tossing it in his trunk, he decided to give her a bit more time before they spoke again, letting her get back to herself. In the meantime, he had things to do. No more sitting around.

The first thing he did was send a letter to Mad-Eye so lengthy he had to bribe Hedwig with owl treats before she took it. In it Harry went on about plans and ideas he'd had for the new Order. He wasn't going to take the attack at the Tonkses' laying down, and there had to be something they could do while he was stuck at school. While he waited for a response, he took care of other matters on his mind.

Namely, restart the DA. It was clear the Death Eaters were stepping it up, and Harry feared the next time it wouldn't be just Aurors and Order members caught in the crossfire. They had to be ready. Neville was thrilled when he told him, and they agreed to discreetly spread the word to all former DA members that were still at Hogwarts, meeting in the Room of Requirement Sunday night. Even though Umbridge was no longer around, he didn't expect the teachers would approve of a defense training group. Harry scribbled notes, trying to recall all the spells and techniques he'd learned from Tonks.

And that brought the circle around. She hadn't been seen in the castle at all, not at meals, roaming the halls, or jogging across the grounds. He knew she was there, still vowing to give her space, but as the days passed, his patience grew thin.

By Saturday morning Harry had had enough. No matter the circumstances, he wasn't going to allow Tonks to fall apart and mope around for the rest of her life. He was out of bed before sunup, ignoring the snores (or mumbles, in Seamus' case) of his roommates as he slipped out of his room.

He didn't let himself think about it before knocking on her door. Just like last time, it swung open without revealing a person behind it. He frowned as he stepped inside. The room clearly hadn't received the attention of a house-elf in days, the floor covered with piles of clothing and the table with plates of untouched food. The acrid smell of smoke flooded his nostrils, and he traced it to the unmade bed, where Tonks reclined amongst rumpled blankets, one sheet trailing onto the floor.

She was, to put it simply, a mess. The oversize t-shirt hanging off one shoulder was wrinkled like it hadn't been properly folded in years. Her hair, brown and streaky as if she had changed her mind halfway through morphing, hung lank, greasy, tangled. A cigarette dangled from one corner of her mouth, and the bloodshot eyes that turned his way were unreadable.

"Harry!" They widened slightly as she sat up straight before ever so visibly forcing herself to relax, rearranging her face into practiced lines of indolence as she reclined against the headboard. She morphed in front of him too often for him not to recognize it.

"I'm sorry I walked out," he blurted out. "I never should have left when you needed me most."

"Yeah, well …" She plucked the cigarette from her lips and offered it. "Fag?"

That snapped him into action. Striding forward, he yanked the cigarette out of her hand, tossed it in a nearby ashtray, and swept her off the bed. She yelled in surprise, but he didn't give her time to protest before he reached the bathroom and all but dropped her in the shower.

"What –" was all she had time to say before he turned on the water, and then he got out, not a moment too soon as a bar of soap came flying in his direction.

Shutting the door for her privacy, he waited a moment before deciding she wasn't going to follow just yet. Satisfied, he cast a look of disgust at the messy room before calling, "Kreacher!"

His house-elf appeared with a loud CRACK in front of him, wearing an expression of deepest loathing above his Hogwarts tea towel as he bowed. "Yes, Master?"

"Bring me two thermoses, each half coffee, half hot chocolate. And in about fifteen minutes, clean up this room."

Tonks emerged a few minutes later, wrapped in a towel with dripping hair. She gave Harry a nasty look while she snatched clothing out of her wardrobe and returned to the bathroom. When she was fully dressed in trackies and an Auror shirt, Harry threw her a sweatshirt and gestured for her to follow him.

He didn't say anything, ignoring her demands for an explanation until they reached the Quidditch pitch. They took a seat in the stands, and he gave her one of the thermoses.

"I didn't know you were a smoker," he said, unsure of where to begin.

"I'm not."

"Then what were you doing?"

"I only smoke when I'm stressed. Smokers smoke every day."

That was debatable, but he didn't come here to argue semantics with her. When he realized she wasn't willing to start the conversation, he jumped into it. "I'm not going to let you do this," he said without preamble. "Whatever happened between us, I won't sit back and let you withdraw from everything. I've tried that. It doesn't work."

She took a long sip of her drink, looking across the pitch that was lit with the myriad colors of early dawn. Dew glistened on the trimmed glass. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he questioned.

"Everything I said that night. Mocking you, yelling at you, doing what I do best and avoiding things I don't want to talk about by distracting you with sex. For … what I told you about Cooper. I shouldn't have told you that way. For what it's worth, it was once, and long before you and I began dating."

"I don't have to know about all your past relationships, and I don't particularly want to, but you made it clear there was nothing between you."

"There wasn't – it's complicated – I didn't mean to imply a lie, but it's part of a very long story that I prefer to pretend doesn't exist." Harry took a drink, not sure how to respond to that enigmatic sentence. "But I am very sorry, Harry. I hope you know that. You came to comfort me, and in return I was just awful to you."

"I shouldn't have pushed you into telling me like that, or gotten on you about Malfoy's case. I'm sorry. And for leaving. I knew as soon as I did I shouldn't have walked out."

She shook her head, navy hair swinging in her eyes. "It was the right thing to do at that point. I was in no mood to talk, and had we tried, it probably would have gotten even worse."

"Okay," he replied. "Do you feel any better?"

"No. Sometimes I don't know if I ever will."

"I thought as much."

She gave him a half-smile. "Is that what this is about? I'll get you back for that shower trick, by the way."

He grinned. "Yes. And no. I knew you were holed up in your room, and I couldn't stand it any longer. Like I told you, you can push, but I'm not going away. I won't leave you like that again."

Tonks chewed her lip, and for a second he thought she was going to cry. Instead, she picked at her fingernails and drank her coffee while staring over the pitch. Harry wanted to put his arm around her, wishing somehow they could be the same couple they were such a short time ago, but he got the sense she wouldn't welcome that just yet, and so he waited, sipping his own steaming beverage. Sometimes, he reflected, just being there was enough. Something he should have realized the night of the funeral.

The sun was peeking over the horizon when she let out a very long breath. "I have a story to tell you." Tonks drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, and she looked past Harry at something he couldn't see. He was vividly reminded of her story about the man she killed. "And please let me get to the end before you say anything."

She waited for Harry to nod before she continued. He did so, trying to ignore the lurch in his stomach at the tone of her voice.

"When I was sixteen, I fell in love for the first time. He was a year older, a Ravenclaw. He went into Hit Wizard training straight out of Hogwarts, and when I left school a year later, he asked me to move in with him. And a year after that, he proposed. My parents never liked him, and it didn't go over well. Being my mother's child, I told them to bugger off and played prodigal daughter. My mates tried to tell me it was a bad idea, so I blew them off, too."

He nodded again, encouraging her to go on while trying to absorb that. She was _engaged_? The age gap between them had never seemed wider.

"That Halloween we had a horrible fight after a party, screaming at each other at the top of our lungs. He called me a whore, so I threw my ring at him. And then he grabbed my arm and twisted it, shoving me into a wall. As soon as he let me go, I split and went to the only friend I had left. When I showed up, crying in the middle of the night in the pouring rain, he took one look at me and went ballistic. It took all I had to convince him not to go after my fiancé."

Clenching his fists, Harry understood the feeling, but he let her continue.

"Our relationship was tumultuous from the start. Legendary arguments. We were both hot-tempered, and I gave as good as I got. I knew just what buttons to push when he made me angry. For every reason my friends gave me that he wasn't good for me – possessive, controlling, jealous – I had an excuse: protective, strong-willed, passionate."

"Why would you –" Harry began before he could stop himself. She shook her head, and he let the sentence die away.

"He had never been violent before, and when he swore he wouldn't do it again, I was more than willing to believe him. Things improved after that. I was lavished with flowers and candy and attention. And then one day before Christmas I came home early and found him in our bed with another woman, someone I knew. Literally in the act. It's funny, actually, how calm I was. I took off my ring, set it down, and told him I would return later to collect my things. He ran after me, holding a sheet around himself, but this time I wasn't having any of it. Fool me twice ... I went back to the same friend I'd ran to the first time. I decided we were over and good riddance to him."

Tonks was silent for a long time, and Harry was nearly afraid to breathe, not knowing what was coming but dreading her next sentence. When she spoke, her voice was completely detached, void of emotion.

"The next day I went to our flat to pack while he was at work, and he showed up. He was ... very angry that I was leaving him, and he tried to stop me."

This time she was silent for so long Harry began to think she'd forgotten she was talking. "How?" he finally prompted very quietly even as he knew he didn't want to hear the answer.

Maintaining her clinical recitation, she went on. "He beat the shit out of me."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He was seeing red, and for the second time in his life he felt a rage so powerful he could easily have cast the Cruciatus Curse.

"And I suppose a barely conscious fiancée can be a turn-on, because when he was done with that, he wanted something more. But," and Harry had never been so grateful to hear one simple word, because at that point he was all but shaking to get his hands on this person. "My friend showed up, and he scarpered before he could ..."

Tonks took a deep, measured breath. Both were drained at this point, and nothing was said for a while. In some distant part of his mind, Harry noticed even the birds had stopped chirping. So much more was clear now, and the pieces fell into place like a child's jigsaw puzzle.

"Cooper was the friend."

"Yes."

"Your cousin Emily was the one you found with your fiancé."

"Yes."

"And she was dating Cooper."

"Yes."

"This man is the bloke who showed up at the New Year's Eve party."

"Yes."

"And his name is Nick."

"Yes."

Harry fell quiet again, absorbing everything, and Tonks took that as a sign to continue.

"I spent two days in St. Mungo's. Coop was an Auror, and I nearly one, so he managed to convince the Healers I'd been on an undercover training mission so we could avoid too many questions. Mum never found out. No one did, actually. I never told anyone until now."

"Why didn't you fight back?"

She laughed hollowly. "I did. He was a Hit Wizard with a year's worth of training on me, and bigger and stronger as well. I had set my wand down out of reach." She twirled her wand – twelve inches, hazel, unicorn tail hair – in one hand. "Consider it a lesson learned."

"What happened to him?"

"Coop found him. I don't know what happened, but a week later Nick transferred to the States in an exchange program, and I didn't see or hear from him for three years."

"Why would you let him go? Why isn't he in jail?" Harry demanded. "He could have killed you! He should be in Azkaban, or …"

"Because to do that, people would have to know about it, and I don't …" She fidgeted with the end of her sweatshirt. "I don't know, Harry. Remember when I asked you why you never told anyone about the Dursleys or Umbridge? It's like … I don't know how to explain it. The only way I could deal was to pretend it never happened."

"Dora …" Harry took her hand, but she snatched it away.

"Don't. That's exactly what I don't want. I don't want that look on your face, I don't want pity, I don't want retribution. I just want it to go away."

"I get that, but … he could be out there doing that to someone else."

"I know." She ran a hand over her face. "I think about that sometimes, but then I imagine facing him again, picture my dad's reaction, and I just can't. So much for being a brave Auror. And back then all I wanted to do was forget. Forget Nick, forget how it felt, and I did everything I could to facilitate that."

He had an idea where they were headed, and as much as he didn't want to hear about it, it was something that needed to be cleared up. "This is where Cooper comes in."

Pain washed across the heart-shaped face. "Not yet, though I moved in with him. Told everyone it didn't work out, and no one questioned me. Probably too relieved. Then I embarked on the most self-destructive period of my life. Shit, Harry, you saw me after the funeral. If you don't feel, then it doesn't hurt, right?"

"What did you do?"

"It would be quicker to say what I didn't do. Too much drinking, too much smoking, too many men, excess in nearly every area of my life. Coop put up with it until he couldn't take it anymore. I stumbled in one morning, half blitzed from the night before, rambling on about some bloke whose name I couldn't even remember, and he blew up. I've never once seen him lose his temper like that. Told me I was out of control, throwing my life away, that I couldn't escape my problems no matter what substances I put in my body, and he didn't know why I was wasting my time on all these random people who didn't mean anything when," and she shook her head, "and I still remember this exactly, when 'you have a good person who loves you more than life itself standing right in front of you.'"

"And that's when you knew," supplied Harry, his stomach tightening at what was to come.

Tonks sighed, mussing her hair. "Merlin's tits, no. I knew long before that. We met right after I began Auror training and hit it off. I don't know exactly when he started to feel more for me, but I was aware all along. How could I not? We were the best of friends. But I also knew I couldn't love him back the way he loved me, so I put on my best show. Tell me, Harry, because I never figured it out for myself, what's worse: open rejection or fake ignorance?"

It didn't seem like the answer mattered now, so he left it alone.

"Until that point, he never said a word, so perhaps we were both cowards. Anyway, it was out, and, Merlin, I remember it so clearly. I wanted so badly to be loved again, loved by someone who wouldn't hurt me, that I convinced myself I could force myself to fall in love with him. Here's this man standing in front of me, confessing his love, and everyone thinks we're perfect for each other, so who was I to say no? Then I did the worst thing I've ever done in my life."

"You slept with him."

"Yes. Afterward, he was whispering all these wonderful things to me, and I started crying, of all things. I lost it right there in bed because I knew I didn't feel any of those things and I knew I had done something I couldn't take back. I ran out, and we didn't speak for months."

Harry pushed his hair back, looking out over the peaceful Quidditch pitch. It wasn't as bad as he thought, then. She hadn't cheated on him, they hadn't had a relationship, it was just a very bad mistake. "What changed?" he asked, for obviously they'd patched things up.

"A stroke of luck. I moved back in with Mum and Dad and cleaned up my act. Self-destruction isn't nearly as fun when you take someone else down with you. That summer, Coop had to take a term instructing in the training program. Standard procedure when you're aiming for promotion. And guess whose module he happened to get assigned?" A lone snort of a chuckle escaped her mouth. "Bloody awkward. We could have stayed purely professional, but I missed him like I'd miss my wand, so I said I was sorry, we hugged, and that was that. We never talked about it again. It never happened."

"But … you told him you loved him. When he – on Easter."

Her face took on an anguished look again, but she kept her tone neutral. "I did love him, just not in the way he wanted me. I told him all the time, just like my parents or my cousin Adam."

It stung a bit, for she'd never said anything of the sort to Harry, but all the same he was slightly relieved. "Can I ask a question?"

"Anything."

"Do you think he knew you didn't feel the same way?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think he was trying as hard to convince himself as I was."

"Why?"

"The same reason I got involved with you, babe." She smiled sadly. "It's what he wanted."

And that brought them back to square one. Harry and Tonks. Where did they go from here? "Why did you tell me this?" he asked.

"Because you deserve to know why I treated you so rotten."

"You didn't –"

"I did, and we both know it. I told you months ago I was shite at the girlfriend thing, and all I've done is proven that. "

"No." Harry took her hand and squeezed it. "I think you're great. I think we're great together. You have issues? So do I. Remember? We'll go mad and take over the world together?" She smiled, truly looking at him for the first time that day, but what he saw in her eyes alarmed him. "No. Don't do this."

"Harry …"

He slid closer, taking both hands in a tight grip. "Please don't do this. I don't care what issues you think you have. I'll help you, I'll be there for you. I'm sorry I walked out on you last night, I really am. I'll never do it again."

"Harry, I can't. If we keep going, I'll muck it up even worse and we'll never get over it. This way, maybe we can salvage a friendship. I'm not – I can't handle relationships. Until you, Bill was the only person I dated after Nick, and when he told me he loved me, I broke it off a week later via owl to Egypt. Even some of the things you say, Harry, they scare me, and I'll never forgive myself if I hurt you." She laughed bitterly. "It's fucked up, isn't it, when the teenager is the more mature one."

"I'll wait for you," said Harry earnestly. "However long it takes for you to figure out whatever you need to figure out. Merlin, Dora, I'm sixteen. The idea of marriage or something like that freaks me out, too. I just want to be with you."

She closed her eyes. "I can't do that to you. You have enough on your plate without my baggage. I need to be alone. I've never been good at that, and there's a reason."

He didn't know it could hurt this much. Alarm rising, Harry carefully curved a hand around her cheek, tracing an invisible L-shaped scar with his thumb. "I would never hurt you."

"I know that." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "And I knew Nick wouldn't either. Until he did. I know you're not like him, I know you wouldn't do that, but … Dumbledore's right about one thing. The greatest power anyone can have is love. When you hold someone's heart in your hands, you can caress it, or you can just as easily crush it. That's something I've never been able to forget."

He was losing her, and Harry tried one last time to convince her. Leaning over, he pressed his lips to hers ever so softly, resting his forehead against hers. "Dora, you are my favorite person. Don't run away from me."

"I'm not running away, Harry. For once I'm actually not running. I'm walking away before I have a chance to ruin it for good because I do care about you so much, and if we're ever to have a go again, I have to do this right now. Coop was never the one between us. It was always me."

And that, Harry thought, made all the difference. He couldn't argue with that. How long they sat there, he didn't know. The sun continued its climb, irritating in its simple beauty. Harry's world was upside down, and he wanted everything around him to reflect that. He hadn't lied; a real commitment was the furthest thing from his mind. All the same, he'd imagined Tonks being there all along. It wasn't until now that he realized how much he wanted it. And now it was gone.

"It was never going to work anyway, Harry," Tonks told him in a weary voice. "The Auror and the sixth year? We were living in a fantasy world."

"I would have liked the chance to decide that for myself," he retorted, harsher than he intended. It would have been a lot easier if he could actually muster some proper anger toward her. "What do we do now? I have to see you around the castle every day and forget everything?"

"What you do is up to you. As for me, well, I have to figure out how to live in a world without my best friend." Another bitter laugh. "Coop was like a shield. No matter the reason, he always understood when I was upset. Oh, he'd suggest I talk to someone, but why would I go talk to someone when I had him? Except now I don't."

"You have me, no matter what you say."

The way she looked at him tore at his heart. "Sweet Harry. I always get the ones who are too good for me. And maybe that's why I told you, but it's not …" She trailed off, but Harry could finish it for her. No, it wasn't the same. He could no more replace Cooper than she could replace Ron or Hermione. "Merlin, Harry, it's so hard without him. It's like I'm in a nightmare, but when I wake up –"

"You're still in it."

"Yeah."

"Yeah," he echoed. "Dora? Where does it hurt?"

She didn't reply, curling her fist around her shirt directly over her heart. It was amazing how much he still wanted to take her pain away despite the fact that they were over. He reached out, but she withdrew before he could touch her.

"I should go." Her voice quivered, and she bit her lip so hard he was surprised she didn't draw blood. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I have to go." She stood.

"I can still be your friend," he called desperately. He couldn't lose her. "Please?"

Tonks seemed unable to speak, but she shook her head, moving away for a few paces before spinning around, bursting into sobs as she walked back into his waiting arms.


	31. Focus

**Focus**

"So that's it? You broke up?"

Hearing someone else say it aloud bruised his heart, but Harry pushed it away. "Yeah."

"But why?" Hermione persisted. "It's very out of nowhere. Did it have something to do with Cooper?"

"Sort of. She just needs some space." Harry paced across the Clock Tower, gazing past the massive gears. "I … get it."

"She just woke up one day and decided to dump you?" asked Ron.

"She didn't – it's complicated."

"Sorry, mate." He clapped Harry on the back with a sympathetic glance. "Forget her, yeah?"

"Why would I want to do that?" Harry growled before cringing at himself. No good to take his frustration out on others. "Never mind. Maybe you're right. I just need to move on. Anyway, we have the DA tonight."

"Just what you need, a distraction. Come on, it's lunch."

"And to think he has a girlfriend," Hermione murmured as they followed Ron out of the Clock Tower to descend to the Great Hall.

Harry offered a half-hearted grin. "But maybe he's onto something."

After Harry let her cry herself out, holding her tightly as if his grip alone would keep her with him, Tonks departed, and Harry was left alone with an empty feeling and nothing else. He sat on the Quidditch pitch until the sun rose high in the sky and his teammates came looking for him for practice. A day later, and he still hadn't filled the hole inside him. A distraction was just what he needed.

Plans for what Ginny termed the 'DA reunion' were confirmed in whispers from person to person at that afternoon's study group, which the majority of the former DA attended. Glancing at Eric, Harry wondered whether he ought to invite him. But while he'd become somewhat of a friend, he hadn't shown any interest in fighting against Voldemort and presumably only attended the study group to help his marks. Best to keep it quiet for now.

"Hey, Potter?" Daphne Greengrass was looking at him.

"Er, yeah?"

"Do you know how to do the color-changing spell on humans we learned in Transfiguration?"

"_Multicorfors_? Yes."

"Do you think – would you mind helping me?" She didn't seem very pleased about asking for help, which Harry found odd, as that's what they were here for. "I can do the spell itself, but I haven't much control over the actual color." She held up a hand; all five of her fingernails were a different color.

"Um, sure." Dropping his book, he crossed the aisle to her desk.

For a few minutes Harry demonstrated the spell and explained how it was two-phased: one to change the color of the object (hair, skin, nails, or likewise) and another to determine the color. When Daphne thought she understood, he returned to his studies until she called him back.

"Potter?"

"What?"

"Does Granger fancy him?"

He followed her narrow-eyed gaze to Eric and Hermione, who were smiling. Though Eric had caught up on his studies, Hermione was the one he felt most comfortable with asking for help and as such they usually sat near each other. Despite apparent friendliness, the idea that either could fancy the other was laughable.

"Hermione? No, not at all. She helps him is all."

"Oh. I just wondered. No reason."

Was that a hint of jealousy? Remembering that they'd attended the Yule Ball together, Harry smirked knowingly.

As that night approached, he admitted, if only to himself, that he was excited to resume the DA. It had been the first step he'd ever taken on his own to make a stand in the fight against Voldemort. Proper Defense teacher or not, this went beyond good marks on their exams.

They trickled in the Room of Requirement in ones and twos. Neville, Luna, the Creeveys, Ginny and Dean, the Patil twins, Hannah Abbott, Terry Boot, even Harry's ex-girlfriend Cho Chang with Michael Corner – nearly all the old crowd showed up. The only missing members were those who had left Hogwarts, Hufflepuff Zacharias Smith (no great loss), and Cho's friend Marietta Edgecombe, who had betrayed the DA to Umbridge last year and had the odd spot formation to prove it.

"What's this about, Harry?" Seamus asked. "Thought this was over."

"Yes, Snape's a jerk, but at least he knows his stuff," Ravenclaw Anthony Goldstein added.

Harry stepped to the front of the room, Ron and Hermione flanking him. "It's not just about marks and exams anymore. Passing our N.E.W.T.s doesn't mean anything in the real world."

A few of the students murmured dissents. Ernie Macmillan declared, in his pompous manner, "I should say it very well does!"

"That's not what I meant," Harry hurried to correct himself. "Yes, they're important, but it's more than that. DADA can only take us so far. We need more if we're going to face ... well, you've seen the papers. You know what's out there."

Michael frowned. "The teachers aren't going to like this."

"Which is why we need to keep quiet. Let's keep it to O.W.L. year and above – yes, you can stay, Dennis, you were here last year – and be careful about inviting anyone new."

"Are you going to make us sign a cursed parchment again?" Cho asked, glaring at Hermione.

"If some of us were a bit more careful about our friends, it wouldn't have been necessary," she retorted crossly, flushing.

"No," Harry said in a decisive tone, cutting through their squabbling. "Honor system. We have to trust each other." That brought to mind who exactly was responsible for the attack at the Tonks house, but he ignored the thought, unwilling to dwell on traitors at the moment.

They began by going over what they'd done the previous year, stunners and shields and patronuses. Having long since mastered these skills, Harry supervised. Last year seemed at once just yesterday and so very far away.

After an hour or so they broke up, slipping away in small groups just as they'd arrived. He made sure everyone still had their Protean Charm-enhanced fake Galleons, courtesy of Hermione, so they'd know the date of the next meeting. He took note of those who'd lost theirs, deciding to ask Hermione how to do the charm. Could be handy.

"This is great," Neville confided in Harry as they hurried back to Gryffindor Tower, trying to beat the curfew.

"All thanks to you, really. You're the one who put it in my head."

He shrugged. "It just feels like someday we'll need it."

**oOo**

Classes resumed the next day, and Harry applied himself with new vigor. With homework, the DA, his lessons with Dumbledore, and Quidditch, he had more than enough to fill his time and keep him from thinking about other things, particularly those in the shape of a woman with fluorescent hair. Though Tonks resumed her patrols and guest lectures, she and Harry studiously avoided each other.

He held the first Quidditch practice of the new term Monday evening. Spring rains had fallen all day, and it was a thoroughly soaked and mud-splattered team that gathered in the Gryffindor locker rooms when darkness fell.

Harry was in a foul mood. Still full of holiday spirits, his teammates had goofed around for the entire practice, stopping only when a careless throw of the quaffle by Jimmy had bloodied Ginny's nose. Only now did he fully appreciate what Oliver put up with in the Weasley twins.

"We have to do better than this," he barked, staring his team down. "Cho put together a good team this year."

"I bet you'd like to beat her, yeah, Harry?" Dean called, grinning. "Settle an old score."

Harry shook his head. "I want to win, but not because of her. We're one match away from the Cup, but Ravenclaw is no joke. They beat Hufflepuff and Slytherin as easily as we did. Today your passes were slow, your blocks were sloppy, and your attention was somewhere else. Come on, you lot. Don't you want to win?"

"You're starting to sound like Oliver, Harry," Katie said reasonably. "Of course we do. We know what to do. One bad practice isn't the end of it."

"We have to focus, okay?" Harry stated, giving each a look of annoyance. Their assurance of a win could cost them the game. "All the time, we have to focus. The time for fooling around had passed."

"Constant vigilance," mocked Ginny, and everyone laughed. Fake-Moody had been a popular teacher, despite the fact that he turned out to be a believed-dead Death Eater in disguise.

A flush crept up the back of Harry's neck. The comparison made him wonder if he was lecturing his team, or himself. He had a sneaking suspicion his mind wasn't on Quidditch any longer.

"Anyway," he resumed. "I know each of you knows what you're doing. Just one more month and the game will be here. So on that note, we're going to have three practices a week plus Saturdays."

They immediately broke out in grumbles and complaints. "Harry, I've N.E.W.T.s coming up!" objected Katie.

"And we have O.W.L.s!" Ginny and Demelza protested in unison.

Harry tried to reason with them, pointing out there would be a month after the Quidditch final before exams, but they remained insistent. Deciding he'd rather have his team happy than sulky, he dropped one of the weekday practices and added an hour onto the Saturday sessions. Besides, he admitted to himself, he had enough demands on his time as it was. Perhaps four practices a week was a bit much.

"That's all, then. Wash up and I'll see you back on Wednesday."

"You know, I think I'm glad I was never Quidditch captain," Katie remarked to Harry as she hung up her broom. "Oliver, Angelina, now you … reckon it goes to your head." She winked.

Grinning, he grabbed her shoulder before she left. "Hey, Katie? I'm glad you're back to yourself."

She smiled. "Me, too."

Shedding his still-dripping robes, Harry walked over to Ginny. He'd easily healed her nose, but it still looked red and puffy. "Alright, Ginny?"

"Like I just told Dean," with a very pointed glare toward said boyfriend, "I'm fine. If I need a nurse, I'll go to Madam Pomfrey."

"I didn't know it was a crime to be a concerned boyfriend," retorted Dean.

Harry quickly made his escape to the showers. The couple had been on the outs more often than not recently, and he had no desire to be involved in their latest quarrel. His own break-up was still fresh and raw.

He was the last to leave the pitch, making sure all the brooms were secured and locking up. Headed back to the castle, all he could think about was dinner, hoping the elves provided something hearty and steaming like a beef stew. But when he entered the Clock Tower Courtyard, he came to a full halt and all thoughts of food left his mind.

On the opposite side, leaning against a pillar underneath a lamp, was a slim figure in maroon robes, blue hair clearly visible. Harry's heart froze as he took a step back into the shadows. She seemed to be gazing into space, and he made out the lit tip of her cigarette each time she took a drag. Finally she flicked it out and swept away. His emptiness was finally gone, only to be replaced with a sharp ache in his chest.

**oOo**

A few days after the first DA meeting, Harry received another distraction in the form of a letter delivered by a snooty barn owl at breakfast.

He furrowed his brow as he broke the Ministry seal. Who at the Ministry would send him mail?

_Mr. Potter,_

_Given your involvement in the Death Eater attack last week that led to the regrettable death of Auror Lesley Cooper, you will understand the Ministry wishes to meet our enemies with sufficient force so as to prevent future tragedies such as this._

_Your support was invaluable when last we presented legislation to the Wizengamot. The name of the Boy-Who-Lived carries great respect, not merely as the only person to survive the Killing Curse but also as someone who courageously stood against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when others, even our own Ministry of Magic, dismissed the threat._

_I am sure you can imagine the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is eager to seek justice for Auror Cooper's death. Please review the included summary of proposed legislation and let me know if you wish to lend your support as soon as possible._

_Regards,_  
><em>Sanjay Bansal<em>  
><em>Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic<em>

Aware of curious eyes, Harry shoved the letter in his bag. He read it at his desk in Transfiguration, elbowing Hermione when she attempted to read over his shoulder.

"The Ministry? Harry, what are you doing?"

"Nothing, Hermione, it's nothing."

"But –"

"Lay off, Hermione," Ron interrupted. "Harry's a big boy." He waited until Hermione took her own seat, sending both a waspish glance, before leaning in to Harry. "Mate, the Ministry? Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Yeah, I do."

"If you say so. This is the same Ministry that set Umbridge on us, right?"

"The same one who put her in Azkaban," Harry reminded him.

"Which means they're willing to stab even their most loyal supporters in the back," muttered Hermione loud enough for them to hear.

He had to concede Hermione's point, but Sanjay wasn't asking him to do anything but give it some thought. It was up to Harry what to do at that point.

And looking over the description of the proposed legislation, he couldn't see they were wrong. The Aurors were playing on a different level than the Death Eaters, and they couldn't be expected to keep up. One word jumped at him from the precise script on the parchment.

_Unforgivable._

And suddenly a memory, months-old, floated to the pensieve surface of his mind.

_"Back during You-Know-Who's first rise to power, they were authorized to use the Killing Curse, and some of the veterans are predicting the same legislation is coming ... Personally I think all it will take is something big to happen. I almost thought they'd allow it when Amelia Bones was murdered; we don't take kindly to losing one of our own."_

Cooper's words were tragically prophetic, and Harry wished it wasn't so. Nevertheless, he more than agreed it was a necessary step. After classes, he wrote a response to that effect and headed to the owlery to send it with Hedwig.

**oOo**

Harry's first lesson with Dumbledore after the Easter debacle came that Saturday. The Headmaster had been away from the castle more often than recently, and Harry was keen to hear how the Horcrux search was progressing.

"Pepper imps," he offered the stone gargoyle guardian, who swept aside to reveal the hidden spiral staircase.

Harry stepped on the stairs as they circled up. He'd always liked that particular staircase, sort of a wizard version of an escalator. The door swung open with a pleasant "Come in, Harry," and he entered, eyes sweeping around, searching for … something. What, he did not entirely know. A Horcrux, perhaps, or some new magical tool to teach Harry. Surely it was going to be more than books or lectures. Harry needed practical magic, beyond even that which Tonks had taught him. But the desk had only the normal – books, scrolls, various magical objects.

"Were you expecting something?"

"I, er … I thought maybe you'd found a new Horcrux."

"I agreed to take you with me when I suspect I have, did I not?"

"Right, you did. Are you getting closer, then?"

"I believe I am, and that will serve as the crux of our lesson tonight. Before we get to that, however, I would like to know how you are getting on in your own studies."

"Oh!" Harry shuffled in his bag, holding out two thick books. "I finished."

Dumbledore seemed impressed, taking the books and setting them aside. "Indeed? I am pleased. And how did you find it?"

"More interesting than I figured," Harry admitted, bringing a slight smile to Dumbledore's wrinkled face. "It's like … now I can look at a spell as the sum of its parts rather than one whole piece, and I don't know why, but I think it makes it easier."

"Very good, Harry. I admit I did not expect you to complete these so quickly."

"I've had more free time since … Easter," he mumbled.

"Yes. Shall we talk about Easter?"

_Not if I can help it._ "What about it, sir?"

"My understanding is that you acquitted yourself very well during the encounter, taking on fully-fledged Death Eaters."

"I'm not going to run anymore," Harry defended himself fiercely. "I'm sick of it. If he wants a fight, then he'll have one."

"Is that what you wish, Harry?" Dumbledore said in a neutral tone.

"Yes. No. I don't know." Harry ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking in all directions. "I know I'm not good enough to face him yet, but I don't want anyone else to die, I don't want my friends in danger. But what does he want with me, Professor? You said as long as I live with the Dursleys, he can't hurt me until my next birthday."

"And so I believe. It seems Tom has grown rather tired of waiting. He is a very proud man, and you have defied him more than anyone ever has. You, a mere boy, against the greatest Dark wizard the world has ever seen. Prophecy notwithstanding, you are more than a thorn in his side, and why should he allow you to roam free, growing stronger and surrounding yourself with protection? No, I expect he wishes to end this just as much as you do."

It made sense, and Harry had said something similar in his letter to Mad-Eye. Why should they wait for an attack to capture or take out Death Eaters? Thinking on it further, Harry figured that if the Ministry wanted to use him as a figurehead, so could Voldemort – only for the opposite effect.

"Yeah, I get it, but it's so frustrating," he complained, letting vent to the one person he didn't mind burdening. "I don't understand how he knows. I only told Ron and Hermione, and Tonks, only Cooper. None of them would betray us, and neither would you, McGonagall, or Ted and An–, er, Mr. and Mrs. Tonks. I know it. So who?"

Dumbledore took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I very much wish I had that answer, Harry, but I fear I am as much in the dark as you."

"Yeah, well ... it's going to happen again someday, and I want to be ready. So what's next? You said we would talk about the Horcruxes."

For a moment Dumbledore didn't respond, so long that Harry began to think his mind had wandered off, a highly uncharacteristic behavior. But then, as if he mentally shook himself, his gaze returned to Harry. "Yes. The Horcruxes. As I showed you in previous meetings, I have devoted a large part of my time to tracing the steps of Tom Riddle's past. The Horcruxes seem to be tied to or hidden in places that have great magical significance to him. The diary and the Chamber, the ring and the Gaunt shack. I believe I am on the trail of another, and allow me to show you how I came to this conclusion."

For the rest of the evening, the two wizards bent over Dumbledore's desk as he demonstrated and discussed revealing and tracking spells with his young protégé. It was a much more imprecise branch of magic than Harry had ever previously explored; rather than a blinking fluorescent sign declaring, 'DARK MAGIC WAS HERE', it proved fairly difficult to determine whether any magic had been used on an object or in a location, not to mention the type of magic.

"Dissect the spells, Harry," Dumbledore coached. "Think of exactly what you are trying to accomplish and how that particular spell can arrive at those results."

Harry never handled difficulty in learning magic well. Sensing his own mounting frustration, he took a moment to calm and rearrange his mind using his rudimentary Occlumency techniques. Dumbledore nodded his approval. He wasn't able to reveal traces of dark magic on his own that night, but he did manage to see and interpret the results of Dumbledore's spells, which the Headmaster said was an important step.

"This is a good moment to stop, and the night grows old. We shall continue this same lesson when next we meet."

"And what else, sir?" The Headmaster inclined his head slightly, gesturing for Harry to elaborate. "What else are we going to study? I want to continue Occlumency and learn defensive magic and curses and different ways to take down Death Eaters and spells I can use against Voldemort and I thought maybe advanced Transfiguration to –"

Dumbledore held up a hand, and Harry halted his flood of requests. "Such eagerness is admirable, Harry, but we must not get ahead of ourselves. It is true, I did wish for you to continue your study of Occlumency. Auror Cooper believed you showed promise, the evidence of which I saw tonight. We shall have to work that into our lessons as well, although our time is limited as it is. Unless, of course, you wish to resume learning from Professor Snape?"

"Not in the slightest," Harry replied with fervor, bringing a twinkle to Dumbledore's eye. It was times like these, when they were able to speak with somewhat of a camaraderie, that Harry was glad he and Dumbledore had patched things up.

"Very well. Now as I said in the beginning, what I am teaching you will very much help you defeat Tom."

"Sorry, sir, but no," interjected Harry. "Nearly all of what we've discussed has to do with the Horcruxes. I appreciate that it's an important step, but when they've been destroyed, Voldemort still remains. How am I supposed to defeat him?"

"You are still placing too much stock in the prophecy. It is composed entirely of words, nothing more, and it does not mean –"

"It's not the prophecy!" Harry retorted. "That's what started it, but it's so much more than that now. People are dying because of him and me. You said it's become personal for him, killing me, and guess what? I want to face him as much as he wants me. I want to be the one. And who is to say it won't? I'm running out of people to stand in front of me, if you haven't noticed. Order members and Aurors are dying, and even you've been cursed so badly you can't heal it."

"What of your sessions with Miss Tonks?"

"Those aren't – we've stopped – " and Harry wished this arm of the conversation would stop, too, for it was still a painful subject, "I need more than what she can teach me. Aurors are good, but it's not enough for what I have to do."

"You wish to be some sort of killing machine, is it? I will not turn you into a child soldier, Harry." His voice was low, laced with disappointment, but for once it did not anger Harry. He remained surprisingly calm, cool even.

"You may be one of the greatest and most learned wizards of all time, but that's what you've never understood, Professor." He stood. "I stopped being a child a long time ago."

**oOo**

Harry did not waste his time brooding over Dumbledore's rejection. He felt as if he were in a race against time. Occasionally his heart raced or his scar throbbed, and it seemed to him nothing more than the ticking of a clock, counting down to some unknown end. His, Voldemort's, perhaps both, he could not discern, but the agitation remained.

Forced to take matters into his own hands, he surveyed the resources at his disposal and decided to take a leaf out of Hermione's book. After Monday's double Potions, he dawdled until the room was nearly empty, approaching Slughorn at the front, where the corpulent professor was vanishing their attempts at making hiccupping solutions. Harry still struggled with potions at times, missing his edited textbook, but Slughorn had deemed that day's offering 'not bad.'

"Professor?"

Slughorn looked up in surprise, his wide face stretching further in a smile. "Harry, m'boy. What can I do for you?"

"Well, sir, I've been thinking about Golpalott's Laws that we discussed last week and how that applies to the use of aconite in the wolfsbane potion."

"Have you?" Slughorn beamed, twiddling the end of his walrus mustache. "Fascinating, isn't it? Yes, both his third and fourth laws would apply to the wolfsbane potion."

"Exactly," Harry said earnestly. "I'd like to study it more, but of course we don't cover the wolfsbane potion at Hogwarts."

"No, no, it's an incredibly complex potion, far beyond even N.E.W.T. level. Yes, it takes a very talented potioneer indeed to successfully brew it. Why, I remember when Damocles Belby was inventing it, he sent me many an owl to –"

"Yes, sir, I knew you would know all about it." Harry oozed flattery, and as always Slughorn soaked it in like a sponge. "The thing is, sir, I'd like to know more about it, but I think the only books are in the Restricted Section. I was wondering if you would write me a note with permission? It's my mother, you see. She was so good at potions, and I'd like to follow in her footsteps."

"Yes, yes, naturally you would. How touching, Harry. Of course you can have permission. Lily Evans' son …"

Note in hand, Harry thanked him profusely. He happened to glance at the shelves behind Slughorn's desk as he left, and something caught his eye. Thinking quickly, he dropped to one knee, bending over his shoe.

"Look sharp now, Harry, you'll be late for your next class."

"Just tying my shoe, Professor."

"Very well. Close my door when you leave, would you? I must go. The house-elves are very prompt with my tea, and it won't do to let sponge cake sit for too very long."

Left alone, Harry quickly strode to the bookcase. Just as he thought, there lay his old Potions text, that of the new spells and edited instructions. He concentrated, tapped it with his wand, and thought, _Gemino_. A new book, identical in every way, appeared on top of it. Placing the copy in the exact spot the original had occupied, he tucked his book in his bag, pleased with himself.

Hermione was waiting outside the classroom. "What took you so long?"

"I needed a note from Professor Slughorn to visit the Restricted Section."

Furrowing her brow, she tilted her head, tucking a brown curl behind one ear. "What do you need from the Restricted Section?"

"Everything. There's advanced magic in there, Hermione, and if it's the only place I can find it, I'll take it. I need all the help I can get. And look."

He tugged her elbow until they were next to an alcove with a suit of armor, partially hidden from the river of students. He held the note containing Slughorn's sharp writing in the palm of his hand and tapped it with his wand just as he had the potions textbook.

Hermione's eyes shot up as he made copies. "Harry!" she hissed, whipping her neck around to make sure no one had seen. "You can't do that. It's – it's –"

"Brilliant," he finished. "I can go as often as I like, and no sneaking around in the dark under the invisibility cloak. Don't you always tell me not to sneak out so often?"

She rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant."

He waved one in her direction. "Come on, Hermione. Don't you want one? Think of all those books you've never read." He was amused to see her brown eyes follow the parchment.

"I suppose it won't hurt anything," she conceded, taking one of his copies. "But Madam Pince is sure to catch us."

"We're Slughorn's favorite students, and you're a prefect. She won't suspect a thing."

Hermione's reply was interrupted by a hand wrapping around each of their arms, dragging them back into the corridor. "What are you doing in there, necking?" Seamus shouted to their intense embarrassment.

They ducked their heads and hurried away from the laughter and hoots of the other students. Harry was beginning to believe the rumors about the pair were never going to run their course. It was beyond tiring. Once away from the Great Staircase and in a quieter corridor, he noticed Hermione sending him strange glances.

"What?"

"I can't decide if I'm proud you finally see the library as a resource or annoyed that it's your last resort."

He burst out laughing. Only when it died down did he reflect it was the first time he'd properly laughed since Easter.

**oOo**

Harry had a problem. Scratch that – Harry had several problems. But only one was at the forefront of his mind at the moment.

His training with Tonks was obviously over. And it was clear Dumbledore wasn't going to teach him everything he needed. Reading books from the Restricted Section was of limited use at best. So what was he going to do now?

He stared into the dying fire, willing the embers to give him an answer. A few murmuring voices told him the common room wasn't quite empty, but he was slumped down far enough in the chair that he couldn't see who. Probably a few seventh years revising for the exams that appeared much closer this side of the holiday.

The letter on his lap could provide one answer. His answer from the missive he'd written Mad-Eye immediately after Easter, the ex-Auror had proven responsive to Harry's suggestions, agreeing that an offensive move was needed. He had outlined a rough plan and said it would be suggested at their next meeting. Harry, of course, could only sit, watch, and write letters.

Mad-Eye Moody. He was an Auror legend, responsible for filling dozens of Azkaban cells, and no stranger to using violent means if necessary. But he was still an Auror, and Harry's experience with Tonks had been that, while usually talented, they were taught to capture. Killing was a last resort. Harry was learning that playing safely wasn't always good enough, and with the dementors out of Ministry control, Azkaban wasn't the haven of security it had once been.

Could he kill someone? He shifted in his seat. He spoke of killing Voldemort, and he could imagine no other end for someone who was responsible for so much pain and misery, but as far as others ... if he was honest with himself, the idea of taking another life made him sick to his stomach. But still, he had to do what was necessary. Anything less was going to get him and others killed.

Not Tonks, not Dumbledore, not Mad-Eye ... Harry ran through the list of every competent adult he knew, trying to think of someone who could give him an edge, teach him what he needed to know to stand on his own. Remus, McGonagall, Bill, Andromeda ... no one fit the bill.

And then a face popped up before his eyes, unexpected and unusual. He was at once unsure and intrigued. Could this be the person he sought? Dumbledore would almost certainly disapprove. Hell, he wasn't sure anyone he knew would like it. And oddly enough, that settled it. Who could be more outside the box?

Scavenging through various odds and ends left on the table, Harry found some spare parchment and a quill. He set to scribbling a letter, intent on finishing before his own misgivings took over.


	32. Allies

**Allies**

Sanjay didn't waste any time. It wasn't long at all before the _Daily Prophet_ bore headlines declaring the passing of what one reporter called 'shocking' legislation authorizing the use of Unforgivable curses by certain members of the DMLE. Reactions in the letters to the editor column ranged from relieved to outraged.

_'How can one be forgiven the use of something termed unforgivable?' – Mrs. Gloria March of Kent_

_'Aurors cannot be expected to fight Death Eaters without the proper tools. It is past time we gave them those means.' – Mr. Barry Pagford of Birmingham, member of the Wizengamot_

At breakfast the teachers were chattering amongst themselves, papers propped up against goblets and bowls, and those students that received the _Daily Prophet_ by owl, like Hermione, could be seen pointing out the headline to others.

Hermione herself wasn't thrilled. "It makes us no better than them!" she fumed. "How could you be a part of this, Harry?"

For of course his name was mentioned several times. "How are we going to win if we try to stun them into submission? I've tried that, and it won't work."

"You nearly died at the Department of Mysteries, Hermione," said Neville quietly. "You should understand."

All looked at him in surprise, even Harry. It was hard to think of shy Neville killing anyone, no matter the strength of his determination.

Demelza looked at Hermione with interest. "Did you really almost die?"

"It still doesn't make it right," she replied, visibly uncomfortable.

"My uncle is an Auror, and he told me they have to do with it takes, no matter the cost, and that the Ministry has never understood that," Lavender said. "But I could never do it."

"I don't reckon any of us could," submitted Dean. "Remember Moody? He said we wouldn't even be able to give him a nosebleed with the killing curse."

"Motivation," stated Harry, remembering his encounter with Bellatrix Lestrange in the Ministry Atrium. "You have to mean it."

Everyone was uneasy after that, and Seamus quickly returned the conversation to fake-Moody, arguing that since he was an actual Death Eater, he knew what he was talking about. Hermione, still upset, glanced up at the staff table before gathering her things and leaving. Curious, Harry finished his eggs and followed.

"... and I wondered how you felt, since it directly affects you," came Hermione's voice outside the Entrance Hall.

"It's my job, Hermione. I'll do what I have to do."

Harry halted in his tracks. He knew that voice. He turned one way, then another, yearning to be anywhere but where he was. The Grand Staircase. If he was quick, he could reach it before they noticed his –

"Where's ickle Potty off to, all in a rush?" Peeves floated upside down in front of him, blowing a bubble.

"Not now, Peeves," he ordered in a low, urgent voice.

He knew better than to expect Peeves to do anything but the opposite of what one wanted. "OI, POTTER, SNEAKING ROUND THE CASTLE AGAIN?" the poltergeist bellowed.

Harry cringed as Hermione's voice cut off, and footsteps signaled their approach. "Thanks, Peeves," he muttered. The colorful spirit bowed flamboyantly.

Tonks and Hermione walked toward the staircase. Hermione gave Harry an apologetic glance, while the Auror's eyes were firmly fixed on Peeves. "Bugger off, Peeves," she ordered.

"Shan't unless you ask nicely. Rude, you is to poor Peevesie."

Rolling her eyes with impatience, Tonks whipped out her wand and sent Peeves zooming away with his gum up his nose, cursing, the exact spell Harry had once seen Remus use on him.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled. "I should have thought of that."

"No problem."

He chanced a quick glance. It wasn't fair that she looked so good, purple hair curling at chin-length, pink lips conspicuous in her fair skin. "How are you?"

Her shoulders jerked in a shrug. "I'm here. You?"

"Okay." He wondered if she deliberately lengthened her lashes so she could gaze at him through them with eyes the color of storm clouds. "How's the, you know, Ministry thing going?"

"Oh, _her_." Her inflection was such that he didn't expect a good report. "Beaky says I'm hostile."

"Beaky?"

"I gave her a nickname. Seriously, that conk of hers could cut glass." Her own nose swelled and sharpened to an alarming size.

A chuckle escaped Harry's mouth. "Maybe that's why she calls you hostile," he suggested.

Thankfully, the organ resumed its natural shape. "Perhaps."

She offered Harry a slight smile, and he reciprocated, warmth building in his belly. It was too easy to fall back into old patterns, pretending things hadn't changed. That is, until a throat clearing interrupted them. Harry had forgotten Hermione was there.

"Sorry, but we have class soon," she said. "Thanks, Tonks. I just wanted your opinion."

"Like I said, it's my job. If someone has to do it, I'd rather it be me than someone else. It's not – killing someone is not an easy thing. It stays with you. Besides, this isn't the first time the Aurors have been given increased powers. There's a precedent. In the 70's they passed –"

"– the Briggs-Tarly Law Enforcement Act of 1978, which gave Aurors and Hit Wizards the authority to use any Unforgivable Curse against Death Eaters," Hermione finished, sounding as usual as if she had notes written on the back of her eyelids. "But a precedent doesn't make something right, and one could argue that didn't help very much, as the war continued until Voldemort went after Harry, and … well, you know the rest."

Tonks blinked. "Hermione, is there an osmosis spell you could teach me? I swear you sleep with parchment under your pillow. You're like a walking encyclopedia. Hermiopedia." Harry snorted, shaking his head. "No?"

"Sorry, doesn't work."

"Yes, it sounds like a disease, doesn't it?" She lowered her voice. "Sir, I'm afraid it's looking serious. You have … hermiopedia."

"Oh, no, anything but that!" Harry deadpanned, laughing at the expression on Hermione's face.

"You two think you're very funny, don't you?"

"I can't speak for Harry, but I happen to find myself quite comical." Tonks tossed a companionable arm over Hermione's shoulder. "Hermione, if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at? I'm just taking the piss, mate. I think you're brilliant. I'm sure you'll be my boss one way or another someday."

"Wouldn't that be fun?" Hermione said dryly.

"Exciting, at the least. Now off with the pair of you. I've a lecture for second-year Defense students to prepare, and if I don't give myself a pep talk on not swearing in front of twelve-year-olds, I'll slip and Snape will give me one of those looks."

"See you later, Tonks," said Hermione.

"See you later," echoed Harry, willing himself not to throw everything to the wind and kiss her. The encounter had only served to remind him of how much he missed her.

She caught his hand before he could slip away. "Harry, we're still mates, right?" she asked, quiet and guarded.

He couldn't have turned down that entreating tone even if he wanted. "Of course."

A smile lit up her face with the power of a thousand light bulbs. "Good. Great. Fantastic, truly. Later, Harry!" She briefly squeezed his hand before spinning around and running off.

Hermione waited for him one landing up, squeezing his hand much like Tonks had. "Alright, Harry?"

"Yeah," he told her, and he was very nearly honest.

**oOo**

Harry also didn't have to wait long before receiving a reply to his secret letter. Hedwig sought him late at night, tapping on the window until Neville groggily opened it, said, "For you, Harry," and collapsed back in bed. Harry had a moment of bittersweet nostalgia, the random delivery reminding him of the days when Sirius was on the run.

Accordingly, Harry snuck out of the castle the next night, more than a little wary of what he was getting himself into but too curious to stop. Aiming for the Whomping Willow across the moonlit grounds, he had a sudden thought and grinned to himself. Two decades later, he was literally following in his father's exact footsteps under the exact invisibility cloak. It was comforting. His father had done something possibly dangerous and probably stupid, because he felt it was the right thing to do, and now so was Harry, even if there was a distinct difference in their activities.

It was a simple matter to immobilize the tree's flailing limbs, allowing Harry to slip unharmed into the hole at the base of the trunk and run down the low, narrow, earthen tunnel, the only light that of his wand. When he neared the end, he slowed, assaulted by memories.

_"I don't know if anyone ever told you – I'm your godfather. Well, your parents appointed me guardian. If anything happened to them … But … well … think about it. Once my name's cleared … if you wanted … a different home …"_

For a so very brief period of time, perhaps one blessed half hour, he had been happier than he ever had been. Before Voldemort's resurrection, before the deaths, before the prophecy … Harry had walked through this tunnel believing he would leave the Dursleys' forever, making a home with Sirius, the closest thing to family he would ever have. Then Wormtail escaped, setting the events of the next three years in motion and betraying his friends for the second time.

The surge of anger snapped Harry out of his reverie. If ever he met Peter Pettigrew again – but no point dwelling on that at the moment. He'd deal with that when it came, and so much the worse for Wormtail if it did.

He stepped into the filthy house, climbing the creaking staircase on instinct. The door of the room at the end of the hall – the same one in which he'd confronted Sirius nearly three years ago – hung slightly ajar, the flicker of a fire evidencing the presence of another.

A tall, thin man with gray hair faced the fireplace. "Mr. Potter," he said in a gravelly voice without turning around.

"Mr. Burke. How did you get in?"

He did turn at that, gazing at Harry with beady eyes set in a lined, inscrutable face. "A boarded-up house is only a visual obstacle to a wizard. Curious choice of a meeting place. How did you escape the castle and travel here, and under Dumbledore's oft-broken nose as well?"

"I have my ways." Harry tried to remember what Tonks had said about this enigma of a man – proud, vengeful, gave respect grudgingly. Not someone to trifle with. A gray area, she'd mentioned.

One corner of the wide, thin mouth tilted just visibly in what might have been a smile. "Indeed. Very well. Why did you seek me out?"

Harry walked further into the room, gripping his wand at his side, not as a show of power but rather because he was now outside of Hogwarts and every time that year he had left Hogwarts, Voldemort had known. He wasn't going to take any chances, even in an abandoned shack in Hogsmeade in the middle of the night.

"I need your help," he said honestly.

"Is this about the Malfoy boy? I have already agreed to testify about the properties of the vanishing cabinet in my former store at his trial, and I rather thought that matter settled."

"No." Changing tactics, Harry asked, "Why did you come to the Tonkses' on Easter?"

"Alastor Moody sent me a patronus. I agreed to lend my help to your little band of fighters so long as I am not stopped in seeking the resolution of my own personal goals."

"Rabastan Lestrange."

If Burke was surprised to learn Harry knew, he didn't show it. "Yes. He was there, but I was unable to defeat him in time."

"Do you know why the Death Eaters were there?"

"Why, for you, I imagine."

That made things easier. Harry shifted his feet; he found Burke's rarely blinking gaze more than a little unnerving, but he wasn't about to back down. "Yeah, that's right. I figure if Voldemort is going to keep coming after me, I should be ready."

Burke didn't flinch at all at the name. In fact, he let out a short bark of laughter. "Do you truly believe that you could ever face the Dark Lord and live to tell about it, boy?"

"Yes, actually, since I have already," retorted Harry, stung. "And don't call me boy."

"You do have tenacity," Burke mused, spinning to face the fire again, his arms behind his back. "And what must undoubtedly be a great portion of luck."

"I'll be the first one to say I've been lucky, but that's bound to run out, don't you think? The only thing that's going to improve my chances next time is skill. And unlike you, I don't plan to run when life kicks my arse."

The older man pivoted slowly, crossing the room in slow, measured strides until his narrowed eyes were directly in front of Harry's. "Do not presume to make assumptions about me, _boy_. I may be on your side right now, but it's all a means to an end. Frankly, I could not care less if you win or die."

"Gee, thanks," Harry bit off sarcastically.

"Why should I? Your life is of no concern to me."

"Is anything of concern to you besides revenge? You're as single-minded as Voldemort himself."

Burke narrowed his eyes further to mere slits of black, never breaking eye contact, until –

"Don't ever do that," Harry warned, his wand now in between them. "Stay the hell out of my mind."

"You do have some training, it seems." Harry couldn't tell for sure, but he thought Burke might be impressed. "Not completely useless, then."

Harry threw one hand in the air, frustrated. What a waste of his time. "Why did you come, Mr. Burke? You clearly have no interest in helping."

He pressed the tips of his fingers together in a manner not unlike Dumbledore. "I'm intrigued, of course. What could Harry Potter want from me? The Boy Who Lived, the so-called Chosen One, Dumbledore's golden boy – oh. But perhaps you don't want to be his golden boy anymore?"

Harry fought back a flush. "I want to be more than I am."

"How noble," Burke said with a snort. "Give me a better reason than that."

"I want to learn."

"Not good enough."

"I want to stop the deaths of innocent people like your wife."

"A Messiah complex. Keep going."

"I want to be someone who can stand up against Voldemort."

"I can't do that. People like Voldemort come along perhaps once a century. He, Grindelwald, Dumbledore, all were prodigies by your age. I could teach you every bit of my knowledge and skill, and you will never be as strong as him."

"Then I will move on to the next person!" Harry snapped, boiling inside and out. "And then someone else, and then another after that. Don't you get it? I'm not going to sit around and wait to die."

Burke took a step back, pursing his lips as he slowly walked a circle around Harry. Aware of the evaluation, Harry stood his ground, back straight and eyes gazing at the fire.

Finally Burke spoke quietly. "You have anger. You have motivation. You have thirst. And I suppose you aren't without some talent. Tell me: why did you come to me?"

It was ironic, Harry thought to himself, that the point at which he had nearly decided he didn't want anything to do with Burke was the same point at which Burke decided Harry was worth his time and effort. "You're different. I know your story. You've traveled, you've studied magic and magical objects. You worked with dark artefacts for decades, yet you haven't been corrupted by them, as far as I can tell. You're just ... different than others."

"And by different, you mean I would have no qualms about you sneaking away from Dumbledore's protective grasp?"

Harry almost smiled. "That helps."

Burke paced alongside the fireplace, running a finger through the dust on the mantle. Harry, sensing he was not one to be rushed, waited. "And why should I help you? I told you, I care not for your movement."

"How can you say that?" challenged Harry. "It affects everyone. You of all people should know that."

"If those in power cannot withstand challenges, perhaps they do not deserve to be in power."

"It's more than the government. Innocent people are hurt and persecuted."

Burke laughed. It was a harsh, grating sound, and to Harry's ears it sounded unpracticed. "Do you believe dark wizards, as you call them, are the only ones to persecute and prejudice? Your beloved Ministry has long practiced the same beliefs. Voldemort is simply more overt."

"I know the Ministry has more than its share of issues –" Burke scoffed under his breath, and Harry stared. "What?"

"I read the Daily Prophet like anyone else, Potter. You've become quite the figurehead."

Harry's expression darkened, and he took a step forward. "After last year, I'm no more a fan of the Ministry than any sane person. But at least they don't go around killing innocent people just because of their ancestry. If it's a choice between Voldemort and the Ministry, I'll take the Ministry."

"The enemy of your enemy is your friend."

"Something like that. It's why you're here, isn't it?"

Burke tilted his head. "Clever boy. But not quite clever enough to win me over, I'm afraid." He picked up his cloak from the ripped chair it lay on.

"Wait!" Harry's brain worked rapidly. There had to be a weakness he could exploit. What had he deduced about Burke? He was single-minded. Yes, that was it. "You came back to England because Rabastan Lestrange escaped from Azkaban, right? And you joined with us because you think it will make it easier to hunt him down."

"That is correct."

"But you haven't – you've never joined either side last time. Whatever you've done in your travels, you can't have found yourself in too many duels."

"Perhaps not, but as you said yourself, I have widely studied magic." His eyes, black as night, studied Harry. "Make your point quickly, boy."

"Lestrange has fought in two wars. He's part of Voldemort's inner circle. He escaped Azkaban. He has to be at least moderately talented to have survived this long. You're old and rusty. What makes you so confident that when you do face him, you'll win?"

He held his breath, hoping he hadn't pushed too far. Burke seemed to enjoy being challenged, but one never knew the limits of others. For a moment they eyed each other, neither backing down, two sets of pride and stubbornness.

Finally Burke exhaled in slow, measured breaths. "Nerve. Let us add that to your short list of useful qualities. You do, perhaps, have a point. I am out of practice, and what's more, I may well die without realizing the one goal I have left in life. Very well then, Potter. I shall work with you. He extended a hand, and Harry stepped forward to seal the deal with a shake, his relief warring with a good heaping of misgiving. Burke seized his hand and pulled him forward until they were nearly nose to nose. "On one condition," he murmured, the scene of a thousand cigars on his breath washing over Harry. He waited. "Should I fail in my quest, you carry it out. If I die before Lestrange, you kill him. Swear it."

There was nothing else for it. Swallowing, Harry nodded. "I – I swear. I'll – do it, if you don't. But he's secondary to Voldemort," he added hastily.

Only then did Burke release his grip, surprisingly bruising for one so thin. With a few short sentences, they planned their next meeting and then Burke made to leave without another word.

However, he paused in the doorway, one hand on the frame. "And Potter," he said, taking his time to turn his head. "Tell that silly little Auror girlfriend of yours that I was sorry to hear of her partner. Auror Cooper was a good man."

"I will," said Harry stiffly. "But she's not silly."

"Nor is she your girlfriend any longer, is she?"

Harry's face heated up. "I told you not to –"

"And I did not. A word of advice, boy: try not to wear your heart so prominently on your sleeve. Such a thing will lead to disasters."

He was gone. Harry sank down on the chair, which emitted puffs of dust and a very musty odor.

What in the world had he just gotten himself into?

**oOo**

After Thursday's double Charms, Tonks appeared to be waiting for them outside the classroom, lounging against the wall opposite and studying her nails. When Harry and Ron walked out, followed by Hermione, the Auror fell into step with them.

"Gryffindors," she greeted them.

"Hufflepuff," returned Ron, glancing very unsubtly at Harry as if asking for his permission to speak to Tonks.

"Don't sound so jealous, Ronnie," she teased, reaching up to ruffle his hair. A few people around them looked askance, but most merely walked on. The friendship between the trio and the castle's resident Auror was common knowledge by now.

"How are you, Tonks?" asked Hermione.

"I … I'm okay," she replied. "You know. Day by day thing. Today was both good and bad, and I'll tell you why. I just returned from the Ministry. Malfoy's trial is finally set to begin on Monday. Of course it will be in the papers by tomorrow, but I thought you lot would want to know right away." Her eyes flicked over Harry, who ignored the dig.

"It's about time," Ron groused, shifting his bag to another shoulder. "This was taking longer than it took Crouch to learn Percy's name. What do you think of his chances?"

"Of Azkaban, you mean? Hmm. I'd like to say the case is airtight. We have clear proof of his Dark Mark, which will be enough for some to convict him, and thanks to new regulations, he'll be dosed with Veritaserum when he testifies."

Ron grinned broadly. "He'll be found guilty for sure. I wonder if they'll save him a cell next to his father."

Hermione shook her head. "It's never as easy as that with the Ministry. There are ways he could get off – honestly, Ronald, how old are you? – right, Tonks?"

"As you always are. The easiest way would be for him to strike a deal – name names, spill his guts, and switch sides, more or less."

"He won't do that," Harry said. "He's a coward. He's too afraid of what will happen to him if he does."

"I'm inclined to agree, but you never know." Tonks seemed to retreat within herself for a moment, her attention drifting as she became lost in her own thoughts, so much so that when they turned a corner she crashed into a tiny Ravenclaw. "Shite, sorry, sweetheart." The girl, who couldn't have been more than a first year, clutched her bag to her chest and ran off, clearly embarrassed and possibly slightly frightened by the clumsy Auror, who was stifling a chortle. "Oops. Anyway, I've not heard any rumors of a deal, and that sort of thing usually gets slipped beforehand. Some of the Wizengamot will undoubtedly be influenced by his age and the fact that he's still, or was until his arrest, a student. He'll play that up."

"It's funny, almost," mused Harry. "We used the same tactic in Umbridge's trial, remember? You told me to wear my uniform to make me look young and innocent."

She smiled. "So you do listen to me, ba–, ah, Harry."

The obvious near-slip of the tongue quieted all. The ease with which he and Tonks could still interact, punctuated by the occasional uncomfortable moment, both warmed Harry with its promise of a resumed relationship and twisted his insides with her so close and yet so far away.

"So, how about those Cannons?" Ron blurted out of nowhere. "Second to last instead of bottom of the league this year."

Three gobsmacked faces turned his way as all came to a sudden halt. Tonks was the first to break, a snort of laughter escaping her lips before becoming full-fledged. Hermione giggled next, and soon all four were splitting their sides laughing, leaning against a wall while their classmates walked by with confused expressions and a nearby portrait of a monk muttered, "Utterly mad, I tell you." Harry could have hugged his friend.

"Merlin, Ron, I haven't laughed like that since …" Tonks wiped tears from the corner of her eyes that Harry fervently hoped were of laughter. She actually did hug Ron, squeezing him tightly while Ron patted her back and looked around like he sought an escape. She released him before his face became too red. "But they're still a long way from Puddlemere, who of course are at the top, mind you."

"Chudley's on their way," argued Ron as they began to walk once more. "Look at who they've pulled up from their reserve …"

Their debate went on for some time. Hermione gave Harry a 'what just happened' look behind their backs, and he shrugged. As long as Tonks was getting back to herself, he didn't care what they talked about.

"Blimey!" Tonks exclaimed when they reached the Fat Lady. "Are we here already? Oi!" she called at the portrait, who didn't look pleased. "Remember me?" She grinned at the Gryffindors. "I used to morph into a Gryffindor student and sneak past her. She always got really angry when I left in my Hufflepuff uniform."

"What were you doing in Gryffindor Tower?" asked Hermione, blushing at the saucy wink she received in return.

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," Tonks quipped. "Right, I should go. I want to get a run in before the sun goes down."

"Thanks for telling us about the trial," said Harry.

"Yeah, thanks. Will you be there?" Ron asked.

"Yes. Spectator, mostly, although I'll have to testify about what I saw in the Room of Requirement. That reminds me, I need to prep. But yes, I plan to be there for the entire thing. Involved or not, I'm going to see this thing through." She smiled grimly. "He has a good solicitor, so don't get too assured of a guilty verdict, but with any luck, I'll have a front row seat to see him go off to Azkaban."

"Will you let us know how it goes?" queried Hermione.

It was Harry her eyes rested on when she answered. "Yeah, I'll keep in touch. See you around, mates."


	33. Testimony

**Testimony**

On Monday Tonks took a seat next to a portly gentleman in the deepest bowels of the Ministry. Being barred from the case did not mean she couldn't watch the trial, but to escape Robards' disapproving gaze, no one would recognize the bespectacled blonde in black robes.

Despite being the largest dungeon, the courtroom, dark and unfriendly as ever, was full to bursting. The trial of the teenage son of an imprisoned Death Eater, scion of one of Britain's most prominent wizard families, had attracted much attention. Across the room, the Wizengamot, conspicuous in their plum robes emblazoned with a silver W, were taking their seats.

"Fascinating, innit?" her neighbor said in a wheezy voice. "Took off work to watch this. Making 'istory, ain't they?"

She nodded politely, hoping it would be the right kind of history. She'd been honest with Harry and the others; too many variables were at play to predict an outcome. For reasons outside her knowledge, the trial had been delayed until the afternoon, pushing her own testimony to tomorrow.

He leaned closer. "What I reckon is –"

The doors swung open, and everyone quieted. Scrimgeour and Thicknesse strode forward, followed by Percy Weasley, taking their raised seats at the front. Percy pulled out a quill and hovered over a scroll of parchment as if fast and furious proceedings would commence any second.

Robards led the next group, accompanied by Alex, Jason, and a veteran DMLE solicitor named Finneus Macmillan. Tonks kept her face expressionless, but her insides burned with resentment. She should be there with them. It was her own fault, of course, but she should be sitting at that table.

And so should Coop …

She blinked her eyes, willing herself to focus. Draco Malfoy was last, accompanied by his mother and solicitor. Narcissa Malfoy was a model of composure, her icy gaze revealing nothing but dismissing all as beneath her. The solicitor, Norman Wilkes, was known to all in the DMLE as a smooth, competent lawyer with few scruples about ethics. A cousin of a Death Eater killed in the First War, he had long worked for the Malfoys and others in their circle when they wished to take the legal route (or couldn't buy their way out of something).

Everyone openly stared at the accused, so Tonks didn't bother to hide her studying gaze. Malfoy himself was plainly scared. Skin waxy, eyes bloodshot, mouth downturned, lips thinned. He pressed his hands together under the table and leaned toward his mother. As she'd predicted, he wore his Hogwarts uniform, his robes pinned neatly with a Slytherin crest. He kept running a hand over his slick blond hair. Tonks didn't mind admitting his obvious nerves pleased her.

Scrimgeour cleared his throat, shuffling parchment in front of him. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are here today to answer charges of Death Eater activity, including a plot to allow unauthorized access to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The full Wizengamot will hear the evidence and testimony before deciding the verdict. Do you understand?"

Malfoy stood. "Yes, sir."

A Wizengamot member stood, clearing his throat. Tonks was surprised to recognize none other than Dumbledore. Scrimgeour waved for him to speak. "Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock. I wish to excuse myself on the grounds that I am the Headmaster at Hogwarts, at which Mr. Malfoy was a student until very recently."

Scrimgeour nodded. "Very well, Dumbledore."

Onlookers and participants alike burst into intrigued murmurs, and once more Tonks blatantly stared, shocked. Was Dumbledore so blind to Malfoy's guilt that he would have no part? She supposed it was preferable to arguing for his innocence, but she still found it upsetting. It gave her the uneasy feeling there was more at play than was immediately apparent.

After Dumbledore departed, Scrimgeour indicated for Finneus to begin. His opening statements were brief and to the point, something she expected the Wizengamot would appreciate. No one liked a drawn-out trial or long-winded solicitors.

Soon enough Alex was on the witness stand. "Alexander Renaud, Senior Auror."

"Tell us how you came to investigate Mr. Malfoy, Auror Renaud."

"My team received a tip alerting us to the possibility that Mr. Malfoy had joined the ranks of the Death Eaters and was pursuing a mission for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while at Hogwarts."

"And who provided the tip?"

"Our source will remain anonymous for his or her protection."

Alex continued to provide the details leading up the discovery of the vanishing cabinet, including the raid on Borgin and Burkes. He was cautious not to name Tonks, leaving her out until her own testimony tomorrow. Finneus and Alex agreed it was likely Malfoy would attempt to use their familial relationship against her, and so her involvement would be minimalized.

Alex's cross examination wasn't lengthy. He had been careful to go by the book, and Wilkes was savvy enough to know it would do no good to retread territory. He did press him on the anonymous source that started it all, but Alex remained steadfast in his refusal. Protected sources were standard procedure in the Auror Office, and they absolutely did not want Harry's name brought into it. Wilkes did his best to imply that it was another student, but he too was careful not to name anyone.

By the time Alex stepped down, the afternoon had waned enough for Scrimgeour to call it a day. They'd begin fresh in the morning with Tonks on the stand. Good timing for her, too, as she had an appointment with her Ministry therapist in half an hour. She didn't know which she dreaded more but gloomily predicted neither would be particularly beneficial to her psyche.

**oOo**

Tuesday dawned dreary and chilly, which suited her mood. She'd testified a few times over the course of her two-year career, but she remained uncomfortable and so drew reassurance from the presence of her parents in the audience.

"Nymphadora Tonks, Junior Auror," she stated for the record.

"Auror Tonks, tell me about your experience in Borgin and Burkes."

"We conducted a thorough inventory of the store when we seized it after Reginald Borgin's death. On the night of February twenty-first, we discovered a vanishing cabinet." She went on to describe the cabinet, how it worked, and her discovery of the link with Hogwarts, finishing with how it connected with their original tip.

"Very good, Auror Tonks. And how did you come to believe Draco Malfoy was planning to exploit this link?"

"I am currently stationed at Hogwarts Castle to provide protection for the students. After some investigation, I discovered the room containing the sister vanishing cabinet. The surroundings matched the room to which I traveled from the store. I watched the room for several days and saw Draco Malfoy enter it. On one occasion, late at night, I placed myself inside the room beforehand and watched unseen as Mr. Malfoy attempted to fix it."

"Fix it?" questioned Finneus. "Why would he need to fix it?"

"When I traveled through the cabinets, it was very painful and I had to apparate myself out on the return trip. It's my belief that he was trying to make the journey safer in order to put them to reliable use."

"What else did you see?"

"At one point, Mr. Malfoy pushed up his left sleeve. Clearly marked on his forearm was a skull tattoo, consistent with the Dark Mark in my experience. I took photos of this and of him with the vanishing cabinet."

Jason delivered the photographs to the Minister, their coup de grace. Malfoy's face darkened like a thundercloud, and after gaping in astonishment, he glared at her with undisguised hatred. Narcissa, Tonks noted, looked not at her but at Andromeda.

"Thank you, Auror Tonks. No further questions."

While Finneus took his seat and Wilkes strode toward her, Tonks took the moment to slowly exhale, making sure she was both inwardly and outwardly composed. She thanked whomever was responsible for making her a Metamorphmagus, for it gave her an advantage in these situations. Wilkes would undoubtedly try to rattle her, but her testimony would be most effective if the Wizengamot saw nothing but a professional.

"Auror Tonks, describe your relationship with Draco Malfoy."

This was an interesting start. "I have none. Before this investigation, we'd never spoken a word."

"Was your mother not formerly Andromeda Black?"

"She was."

"And is she not a sister to Narcissa Malfoy, formerly known as Narcissa Black?"

"She is."

"So, Auror Tonks, if your mother and Draco's mother are sisters, does that not make you and Draco first cousins?"

"Technically yes, but like I said, we never –"

"Thank you for clearing that up. Your mother has two sisters, does she not?"

Tonks was beginning to wish her mother was not in the audience. "She does."

"And who is her other sister, besides Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange," she answered, ignoring the urge to grit her teeth.

"Describe your history with your aunt."

"I have no history with either of my aunts. We've never spoken."

"My apologies, I should have clarified. Your aunt Bellatrix."

"I have no history with her."

Wilkes sauntered back to his table, making a show of consulting a piece of parchment although he undoubtedly knew the contents. "Is that so? Auror Tonks, were you or were you not hospitalized in St. Mungo's on the night of the eighteenth of June of last year after the events in the Department of Mysteries that resulted in the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"The events at the Department of Mysteries last June did not result in the return of Vo– of You-Know-Who. He was back a year before that."

Wilkes adopted a tolerant smile. A highly irritating, tolerant smile. "Of course. But answer the question, Auror Tonks. Were you in St. Mungo's after fighting in the Department of Mysteries?"

"Yes."

"And why were you sent there?"

"I had a head injury."

"How did you receive this head injury?"

"I fell down a dozen stone steps."

"What caused you to fall?"

"I was stunned." She knew what he was getting at, but her interrogation training kicked in. Never volunteer more information than one has. Besides, she was probably annoying the piss out of him.

"By whom?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Aha!" His smile turned triumphant. "So you do have a history with your aunt Bellatrix. Why did you tell me otherwise?"

"I said we'd never spoken."

"Did you duel her?"

"Yes. I realize the amount of duels that happen in the legal profession is shockingly low, so you may not be aware, but in my experience I don't often have time for a chat when someone is trying to kill me." A few onlookers tittered. Wilkes' smile didn't waver, but his eyes glittered coldly.

"I see. But you do admit she attempted to kill you?"

"Yes, I expect she'd enjoy that," she replied, allowing neither flippancy nor amusement to color her tone despite her words.

"Does that bother you?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if lawyers become used to death threats, but yes, attempts to kill me do bother me. I quite like being alive." Chortles again, but Alex sent her a brief look of warning.

"Therefore, would it be safe to say you hold ill will toward your aunt Bellatrix?"

His repeated use of 'your aunt' was getting under her skin, but as that was what he wanted, she refused to allow it to rattle her. "I suppose so."

"And would you say that ill will extends toward your other relatives, the Malfoys?"

"No, I would not." She couldn't resist adding, "Unless they try to kill me, too."

"As you say," he replied skeptically. Wisely, he moved on. "Now about your testimony, Auror Tonks. Did you receive assistance in your investigation?"

She tensed without realizing it. Had he somehow found out about Harry's involvement? "The other members of my team helped."

"To be specific, would this include Auror Lesley Cooper, your partner?"

Tonks froze, completely forgetting about staying collected. Coop, her Coop, at her side for so long and now gone forever ... Why would he ask about Coop? The audience was beginning to murmur amongst themselves before she found her tongue again. "Yes – yes, it did. He ... he was there with me. Always, or almost. We are – we were partners, it's what partners do," she babbled.

"And why isn't Auror Cooper in this courtroom to testify as well, if he played such a large role?"

A hundred knives stabbed her insides. She hated him, hated him at that very moment more than she'd ever hated Bellatrix. Given free rein, she'd jump over this table and show him what it meant to hurt like she hurt right now.

"Auror Cooper is deceased, Mr. Wilkes," said Scrimgeour sternly. "Auror Tonks should not and will not be made to answer questions about him. Let's recess until one for lunch, and when we return, I expect you to move on."

Tonks bolted from the courtroom the minute she could, finding the nearest loo and sealing herself inside without any regards for anyone else who might need to use it. She barely made it to a toilet before she retched. The few contents of her stomach and a thousand emotions came up.

That son of a bitch. That he'd done it on purpose, she held no doubt. Her hope was that the Wizengamot would see if for the bullying it was, allowing it to cast a negative shadow on the defense. And when this was over, she would make it her personal mission to find some way to bring Norman Wilkes down.

The face that stared out of the mirror was sickly and pale. Was that a frown line between her eyebrows? Her eyes reflected the trouble she had been having sleeping, and she almost thought her cheeks looked thinner. Of course, she hadn't been eating as much lately, replacing food with too many cigarettes.

_I'm not a smoker. Smokers smoke every day._

She cracked a smile, but it disappeared just as quickly, for it brought thoughts of Harry, and thoughts of Harry, to put it simply, made her sad. Not the sharp, soul-burning pain of Cooper, but a dull, bittersweet ache tinged with regret. She missed him, questioning her decision every day, but surely they were better off as friends. Merlin knew Harry had enough issues of his own without adding hers to the mix. No, she could be a much better friend than girlfriend, and if the thought of him with someone else made her feel like rather aggressively hitting something, she would get over it eventually. Him, she meant. She would get over him.

Splashing water on her face, morphing a bit of color back into her cheeks, and running through some calming techniques, she unlocked the bathroom door, unsurprised to find her mother waiting.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"Fine, Mum. Just ready for this to be over."

"You were wonderful. There can't possibly be more they can question you about."

"You'd be surprised. Where's Dad?"

"Talking to Arthur Weasley. Do you want to go to the canteen and get some lunch?"

And endure more sympathy from coworkers? Absolutely not. "I'd rather eat somewhere else. We have time. Let's go play Muggle in Whitehall."

They found Ted, who called Wilkes a name that made Andromeda exclaim, "Theodore!", and wandered around London for a bit before finding a burrito shop that Tonks insisted on trying, where Andromeda admitted it was delicious and not one mention was made of her testimony.

She resumed her place on the witness stand as cool and self-possessed as she was the first time, with strengthened resolve not to let him get to her again.

He began as if they were resuming a friendly chat from minutes before. "Auror Tonks, I would like to return to your experience traveling through the vanishing cabinet from Borgin and Burkes. Describe how that felt."

Curious, she did as requested. He had her reiterate certain details several times, and when he focused on her mental as well as physical state upon arrival in Hogwarts, she suddenly saw where he was going.

"So by your own words, it felt like 'an apparition gone wrong,'" he read from Percy's notes. "Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"What did you do after you arrived in what you believe to be Hogwarts?"

"I tried to return to Borgin and Burkes the same way I came."

"You tried to return. Were you unsuccessful?"

"Yes. It didn't take long for me to realize that it wasn't working, so I attempted to apparate out."

"What happened then?"

"I was found unconscious in an alleyway a few stores away from Borgin and Burkes." When Wilkes strode to his table, picking up a piece of parchment again, Tonks beat him to the punch. "I was taken to St. Mungo's, where I stayed overnight and was treated for a splinching plus other wounds."

"I see. Had you ever splinched yourself while apparating before that night?"

"No."

"So would you say your mental state was not quite calm and focused when you apparated?"

"I ... suppose so."

"Therefore, by your unique experience, travel between the vanishing cabinets was so traumatic that it led to injuries that required hospitalization and an uncertain mental state. Is that a fair statement?"

"I suppose."

"And so knowing that you were in pain and possibly of diminished mental capacity when you exited the vanishing cabinet, can you say with one hundred percent certainty that you were in Hogwarts castle?"

She struggled for a way to answer the cleverly phrased question truthfully. "Yes, I believe I was in Hogwarts."

"But is there not a possibility that since you were under great duress at the time, your recollection when you found the cabinet in Hogwarts could be faulty? That you wanted to believe it was the same cabinet?"

"I didn't _want_ to believe anything. I believe what I saw with my own eyes. But yes, I was in pain, and yes, I suppose the minute possibility exists that my memory was slightly hazy," she was forced to admit reluctantly.

He nearly smirked as he returned to his seat. "Very good. Thank you, Auror Tonks. No more questions."

Tonks took her seat at the table with Alex, Jason, and Finneus, mentally exhausted. She detested testifying, loathed people picking at her brain, poking holes in her stories, and sometimes all but accusing her of lying. Thank Merlin she didn't have an appointment with Beaky tonight. She couldn't handle this twice in one day.

A worker from the Ministry evidence vault testified briefly, but she barely paid attention. Wary of her experience, they had not attempted travel between the pair again, and Wilkes got him to admit it was possible the cabinet they had retrieved from Hogwarts was not a match with the one from Borgin and Burkes. It was a minor point, but she knew certain Wizengamot members would use the slightest hole as an excuse to let Malfoy go.

When it was over, she spoke to her parents before heading to level two. Morphing inconspicuously on the lift, she kept her head down as she slipped through the department, giving off a clear air of Do Not Disturb and trusting her official robes to serve as enough to stop people from questioning her.

She had to take a deep breath before tapping the code on the team door. _You can do this_, she told herself. Just a room. That was all. Just a room.

And then she opened the door, and it was just a room where they had played darts a thousand times. Just a room where he had given her that ridiculous nickname. Just a room where she was debriefed after her first kill and he sat with her for an hour before she could talk again. Just a room where he convinced her the assignment in Scotland wouldn't be the end of the world. Just a room where she broke his heart when he walked in at the very moment she realized she was attracted to Harry. Just a room where she had hugged Coop for the very last time.

"Tonks? Tonks!"

She blinked, and Jason was standing right in front of her. "Something the matter?" he asked.

"Just ... ghosts."

She crossed the room without telling herself to do so, gazing at the locker that still read '_Cooper, Lesley T._' Her fingers brushed the plaque, imagining she could still feel the warmth of his hand, that if she opened the locker, she could smell his cologne on an old pair of robes. She did so eagerly, willing to endure the pain if she could just have a small part of him back.

It was empty.

"Where is it?" she demanded, whirling around so fast she wound up with a mouthful of brown hair. "What did you do with his things?"

Her teammate held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Maureen came to get them last week. She thought we'd like to keep his nameplate." A pause. "She asked about you. You should probably go see her."

"I will, but … not quite yet," Tonks mumbled. She looked around the room that seemed alien now, searching for something she would never find. "Have they learned anything? About, you know, how it happened?"

"No." Jason leaned against the edge of the table, folding his strong arms. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we ever will. It's not as if whomever it was stuck around."

"You were with him," Tonks remembered suddenly, bits and pieces of that night that had thus far been overshadowed by the end now coming back. She remembered other things, too, remembered who was supposed to be by his side, last words and glances full of unspoken meaning, but it wasn't something she could fully process at the moment. She focused on what she could. "You were supposed to be with him."

"I know." She was in front of Jason without being aware of moving, eyes locked even while he stood. "We got separated, just for a bit, you know how it –"

"You were supposed to be with him," she repeated louder.

His answer, too, was the same. "I know." No anger permeated his voice. "Do you blame me?"

A retort was on her lips even before the wrath flashed in her eyes, but she knew it was false, knew she was merely lashing out at whomever she could. "No, I don't. I can't blame you any more than I can blame myself or I can blame …" _Harry_. "Anyone else. At least until I find out who did it."

"Cooper's death was … regrettable," Jason said, rubbing the back of his neck. It was an odd choice of word, but then again he was so uncomfortable with emotions that Tonks often referred to him as a robot. She was surprised he said anything at all. "Just be careful, or you'll end up as me."

Jason's story was legend among the Aurors, as well known as the Longbottoms, Mad-Eye, and Alaric the Audacious. "I don't think you have to worry about that."

"Perhaps you should take some time off. I'll cover Hogwarts for you, don't worry about –"

"Merlin, no. I need the distraction. Any more time alone with my head, and I might actually go off on my own."

"As you wish." He cleared his throat. "How's Potter?"

She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage. "Okay, I suppose."

He held her gaze for a time that was both brief and just longer than needed. "If you say so. Give him my best. Kid's been through a lot."

"I will." The room had become suffocating. "I think I'm out of here. I'm completely knackered."

"Wilkes is a right bastard."

"Too right. Later, mate."

"Goodbye, Tonks." To her astonishment, he gave her a hug, something she could count on one hand the number of occurrences in the past.

She managed to find a lift to herself, sagging against the wall as it rose. What a hell of a day.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> The trial was originally one chapter, but even after cutting it was nearly twice as long as my normal chapters, so I split it in two. My apologies for leaving you without a verdict. Also, I've been having a heck of a time with the chapter I'm currently writing, which is why the time between updates was a bit longer than usual. I try to stay several chapters ahead of what is posted.


	34. Verdict

**Author's Note:** Given some of the messages I received, it seems I made a mistake in splitting the trial into two chapters. If there was a way to replace chapter 33 with the entire trial without sending 1600 individual messages, I would, but as such I leave you with my apologies & chapter 34.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Verdict<strong>

Wednesday found Tonks drowsy and drinking coffee like it was her only life-force after a long, sleepless night. However, her fatigue disappeared instantly when she heard the name of the first witness for the defense.

Severus Snape.

Snape, the double agent. Snape, the former Death Eater. Snape, the Order member. Snape, the man who was supposed to be on their side.

But then again, so was Dumbledore.

Shaking her head, she settled in to watch and listen, expecting they'd brought him in as a character witness. It was soon clear she was right, and she grudgingly admitted it was a smart move. Snape, as his teacher and Head of House, was most likely the adult with whom Malfoy had spent the most time over the last six years, even more so than his parents. His answers weren't any surprise.

"Mr. Malfoy has been a model student, rarely in trouble and if so, nearly always at the fault of another. He was appointed a prefect last year, and I have no complaint with his service as such. He scored well on his O.W.L.s and was taking many N.E.W.T. classes. He occasionally spoke of a career with the Ministry."

Tonks had to stifle a snort at that. Malfoy's idea of a Ministry career probably mirrored that of his father's – pouring gold into all the right pockets.

"He's popular amongst his housemates and played Quidditch for four years in the position of Seeker, quitting this year to focus on his studies."

_To focus on serving as a Death Eater_, Tonks amended.

Snape went on for a bit, answering the questions that Wilkes served up on a silver platter, and the deep drone of his voice began to lull Tonks into a stupor, just as it had years ago during those hated Potions lessons. She only hoped it was doing the same to the Wizengamot.

When Wilkes and Finneus switched places, Tonks jerked awake, throwing back the now-cold dregs of her coffee. The moment Finneus picked up sheaths of parchment from their table, she breathed a sigh of relief. So they had been successful in obtaining Malfoy's school records. Excellent. He wasted no time in bringing up repeated incidents of Malfoy in detention, painting a picture of him as the bully he was.

"The fifth of February, 1994. Mr. Malfoy received detention at a Quidditch match. Why was that, Professor Snape?"

Snape glowered. "He and his companions played a harmless prank."

"It says here they dressed up as dementors in an attempt to intimidate a player on the Gryffindor team. Given the strong feelings many people have about dementors, it hardly seems harmless to me. Why do you say so?"

"No student received harm from the prank. Thus, harmless."

And so on. Finneus focused in particular on the time Malfoy spent as a member of something called the 'Inquisitorial Squad', which apparently had been formed during Umbridge's tenure for the express purpose of snitching when a student broke one of her many Educational Decrees. Finneus did his best to evoke an image of a group of petty students running roughshod over those they didn't like; Tonks was unsure of his success in that venture, but given Umbridge's widespread unpopularity, she hoped it would at least serve as another black mark against Malfoy.

Finneus finished with, "As you can see, Mr. Malfoy hardly has a spotless record during his years at Hogwarts, yet you, Professor Snape, called him a model student. Can you explain how a model student would have a steady record of detentions?"

"If you had worked with children for sixteen years as I have, you would know that not even the most perfect of students behaves appropriately at all times. I've never known Draco to engage in anything besides normal teenage mischief."

"Normal teenage mischief," Finneus repeated. "Very well. Thank you, Professor Snape. You may step down."

Scrimgeour called for an early lunch, and Snape swept out of the courtroom ahead of the crowd. With some judicious jostling, Tonks was on his billowing coattails, accosting him in the corridor.

"What the hell are you doing, Severus?" she demanded quietly.

"I'm attempting to leave, Nymphadora."

She rolled her eyes. "No, you berk. Why would you testify for him?"

"Because I do not believe he deserves a cell in Azkaban," Snape replied as if it were obvious.

"He has –" She moderated her voice, glancing at the crowd heading for the lifts around them. "He has admitted, under Veritaserum, to having the Dark Mark. It's not exactly something one gets for a lark. You should know that."

He briefly rubbed his left arm, and she wondered if he was conscious of the gesture. "And you should know that the Dark Mark is not always indicative of the bearer," he said with a sneer.

She lifted her head to stare at him, lips barely moving when she spoke. "Are you saying he's a spy?"

"I'm saying you don't know as much as you think you do. I had hoped that would be a habit you grew out of when you left Hogwarts. I must go. Good day, Nymphadora."

"Good day, Snivellus," she mocked childishly under her breath as he strode away from her. The git.

What the hell was that about? How was she supposed to do her job in these circumstances? If only Snape and Dumbledore weren't so damned secretive … Doubt rose inside Tonks, but she squashed it. Malfoy's Veritaserum interrogation had been very informative; he _was _a Dark Mark-branded Death Eater. No question about that, and tomorrow the Wizengamot would hear it from his own lips.

It made her head ache. Glancing at her wristwatch, she decided to snag lunch from a vending machine two floors up, digging her in her pocket to make sure she had enough Sickles. She wanted a good seat for Narcissa's testimony. However, when she returned to the dungeon, she found someone already saving a seat for her.

"Mum?" she questioned as the accepted the empty chair, noting her mother still wore her Healer robes. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see Narcissa's testimony, so I switched shifts with Holly Watson."

Andromeda was pale, even for a Black. "Are you alright, Mum?"

"I'm fine."

Tonks didn't believe her for a second, but as she was well-versed in delivering that same untruth lately, she let it pass. "Crisp?"

"It was just lunch. How can you possibly be snacking already?"

"It is my lunch."

"Nymphadora, I swear – have I taught you nothing about nutrition?"

"You've taught me plenty," Tonks informed her cheerfully. "I just choose to ignore it."

"Cheeky child," Andromeda accused her, not quite hiding a fond smile. "I never thought I'd say this, but it's nice to hear."

"Hmm?"

"You being cheeky. You've been so uncharacteristically gloomy and withdrawn lately, I rather think you're depressed."

Tonks chewed slowly, trying to think of what to say. Having one's therapist say as much was one thing; having one's mother agree was another. "I'm just confused, Mum."

"About what?"

"Everything." She paused. "Everyone. Myself."

Andromeda ran a hand over her daughter's hair. "Is it Cooper, or did something happen with Harry, or …?"

"Yes," Tonks said, hoping the one word would suffice. Cooper and Harry and work and Malfoy … Somehow she'd become unable to separate any of it in her mind.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not right now. Have a crisp, Mum."

"Well, alright. One won't hurt."

Tonks grinned even as she knew her mother was humoring her, but five minutes later she wasn't sure whether to be amused or annoyed when Andromeda finished them off.

Narcissa Malfoy – blonde and beautiful, cold and poised – took the witness stand as the room fell to silence.

It took very little prompting for Narcissa to deliver what was no doubted a carefully prepared testimony. Her tales of Malfoy began from his birth, describing a child who was sweet and bright though admittedly spoiled. _Points for honesty there._

"I expect he was often lonely, with no siblings or cousins around," she said.

Although everyone was quiet, Tonks was sure she was the only one to hear Andromeda's murmured reply.

"And whose fault was that, Cissy?"

The talk turned to Lucius; Malfoy idolized him ("as all boys look up to their fathers") and was heartbroken when his renewed service to Voldemort was revealed and he went to Azkaban. Malfoy flushed at this.

"He's just a boy," Narcissa said in a soft yet penetrating voice. The entire courtroom was mesmerized. "We all think we're grown-up at sixteen, but any adult in here knows that's not true. He's a scared boy who watched the man he looked up to get taken away and had his own life and those of his loved ones threatened. He's nearly of age, but he's still only a child." A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she did not raise a hand to stop its progress.

At least one witch of the Wizengamot raised a handkerchief to her eyes, and everyone was subdued. Even Tonks was touched at her testimony, for it was what was left unsaid that was most powerful. Was he trying to redeem his father, make him proud, save his life …? Narcissa offered no excuses nor explanations, simply showed them Malfoy through her eyes, the eyes of a mother: a young boy trying to be a man who had gotten in far over his head.

It was, in fact, very close to the same thing Tonks herself had said to Malfoy months ago.

Finneus would have to be careful. Anything close to what could be interpreted as bullying the mother, and he would lose favor faster than the Cannons lost a match. Amazingly, he asked but one question:

"Where were you?"

"I'm sorry?" Narcissa queried, furrowing her elegant brow.

"You said Draco was threatened, that he's only a boy. Where were you when your child was being threatened, was making decisions about following in the footsteps of his father, when he was frightened? I'm simply curious about the extent of your role, Mrs. Malfoy. Where were you?"

Tonks inhaled sharply. A risky move.

Narcissa opened her mouth once before taking a measured breath and collecting herself. "I have always supported my son, and I always will," she said in a dignified tone.

"Very well. Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy."

Tonks let the courtroom empty around her, deep in thought as she tried to evaluate Narcissa's testimony. She was no witness expert, however, and as much as she tried, she really had no idea which way the Wizengamot was leaning. All depended on Malfoy's testimony, the only one in which they could legally compel him to take Veritaserum, thanks in part to Harry.

"Nymphadora? Are you coming?" Andromeda peered at her with concern.

"What? Yeah."

Together they left the courtroom in silence, riding an empty lift to the first floor. On their way out, Tonks turned to her mother.

"I –"

A hand closed around her wrist and spun her around to face the frosty blue eyes of Narcissa Malfoy.

"You did this," the elder witch said through thinned lips.

"Let me go."

Her long, thin fingers tightened their grasp. "You are responsible. Do you understand what you're doing?"

"Don't touch –"

"He is a boy, he is your cousin, and you are going to send him to Azkaban."

"Let go of –"

"You did this," she repeated in a snarl.

"Cissy, if you don't unhand my daughter, I swear by Merlin I'll use every curse Bella ever taught us."

Only then did the hand on Tonks' wrist drop away. Both Tonks and Narcissa gazed at Andromeda, the former with astonished eyes, the latter with angry.

"Have you any idea what your daughter has done?" Narcissa hissed.

"My daughter?" Andromeda repeated, stepping closer. They were exactly the same height, Tonks noticed, nearly nose to nose. "My daughter is doing her job. My daughter is protecting those she loves."

"And my son has done the same."

"There is an enormous difference between an Auror and a Death Eater, Cissy." Andromeda raised her chin, looking down her nose at her younger sister. "As big as the difference between you and I."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "If he – if he goes – if he's sent away, I want you to know who I'll hold responsible. When you lay in bed at night, Nymphadora, I want you to think about the sixteen-year-old boy sleeping in a cold, dark, wet cell because you put him there."

"You should have thought of that before you let him play with the big boys," Tonks retorted sharply. "Now stay away from me, and stay away from my mother. Oh, and tell your other sister the same, would you?"

Holding her mother's arm, she pulled her away, aware of Narcissa's eyes on them all the way to the fireplaces. Only when they emerged into London did she stop, snapping her fingers in front of Andromeda's eyes.

"Oi, Mum!"

Andromeda jumped, blinking. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"Quite, I'm sure. It's only strange to see her after so long." She gazed into the past. "I find it hard to reconcile the angry, bitter woman with my baby sister. She was so very affectionate as a girl." She continued to stare blankly, her forlorn expression causing Tonks much more hurt than anything her aunt said.

"Well, that girl is long gone. Come on, Mum, let's go home. I'll cook for you tonight."

As planned, that snapped her out of it. "You'll do no such thing. I intend to live long enough to have grandchildren." Tonks laughed. "But you will eat with us, won't you, baby?"

"Of course, Mum."

Harry's nightly recap would have to wait. Someone else needed her now.

**oOo**

Thursday was the day. The day the trial would be decided, even if the Wizengamot didn't hand in a verdict until Friday.

Malfoy looked very small in the middle of the room, all alone. His normally impeccable hair was slightly awry, small blond strands setting themselves apart from their brothers.

Alex gave him the Veritaserum with no fanfare, simply giving his word that it was the truth serum and nothing else. Malfoy drank the clear liquid with a shudder, yet Tonks knew from experience it had no taste.

Finneus began abruptly. "Do you bear the Dark Mark, Mr. Malfoy?"

His voice was dull, almost as if he'd already given up, and he stared at the floor in front of him sullenly. "Yes."

"Please show me."

Methodically Malfoy pushed up the left sleeve of his robe, unbuttoning the sleeve of his shirt and rolling it to his elbow. The vivid red tattoo seemed to pulse amidst the pale flesh. The audience broke out in murmurs, which annoyed Tonks. Did they think the DMLE would have gone this far without proof? Not to mention the pictures she'd taken.

"When did you receive this mark?"

"Last summer."

"Were you forced into it?" Malfoy paused; Tonks expected he was trying to find a way to answer it against the limitations of Veritaserum. Thankfully, Finneus, too, sensed this and elaborated his question. "Were you forcibly held down and given the Dark Mark against your will?"

"No," Malfoy replied through gritted teeth.

"Okay. What were you doing at Hogwarts while serving You-Know-Who, the one you call the Dark Lord? What was the purpose of fixing the vanishing cabinet?"

"To allow access into Hogwarts."

"Access for whom?"

"Anyone."

"Anyone including your Dark Lord?" pressed Finneus.

Malfoy shrugged. "If he wants."

"What does he want in Hogwarts?"

Again Malfoy could be seen struggling against the truth serum. "A person," he finally admitted.

"Who?"

Tonks leaned forward. They'd been unsuccessful in getting this answer out of him earlier, but she hoped the pressure of the trial and the courtroom would make him crack.

"I don't know the Dark Lord's wants," he said stiffly, and Tonks cringed. No doubt the sentence itself was true so long as Malfoy meant it in a broad sense.

"But you do know that he wants to get inside Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"And it's your job to facilitate that access?"

"Yes."

And Tonks nearly jumped out of her seat. The merest, briefest of tics had jumped on Draco's face the moment he answered. There was something there, something more, something important. Finneus didn't appear to have caught it, and judging by his expression, Alex hadn't either. She willed them to pick on up on the clue, all but waving her arms at them, but the moment passed. _Damn it_. She rubbed her eyes. Was she so desirous of his guilt that she was starting to see things?

His testimony continued, but for Tonks, who had listened to his original interrogation, it was uneventful. It was established that he was a true Death Eater and he was helping Voldemort to endanger Hogwarts students. That should be enough for the most obdurate witch or wizard on the Wizengamot. Finneus stayed away from Katie Bell. Although Tonks was convinced of Malfoy's involvement, he had answered with an unequivocal no when asked if he imperiused her.

To everyone's surprise, Wilkes didn't cross-examine his own defendant. Tonks supposed he thought Narcissa made a more effective witness as to Malfoy's lack of a choice in the matter than a sulky teenager.

"Very well. I believe that is all the witnesses?" Scrimgeour asked, looking at each solicitor in turn, both of whom nodded. "Good. We'll adjourn for the day. Closing arguments in the morning – and I expect them to be brief, gentlemen – and then the Wizengamot will have the case. Let's wrap this up before the weekend."

As he was escorted away, Malfoy looked right at Tonks, holding her gaze until he was out of sight. Whether it was meant to be intimidation or a plea, she didn't know, but it left her thoroughly unsettled. The entire case was affecting her far more than she liked.

The trial, or rather the impending verdict, was going to keep her up all night. She hoped her preoccupation wouldn't affect that evening's session with Beaky too much. Not that she cared, but she had only just progressed from 'hostile' to 'distrusting.' At this rate Harry would be an Auror before she was allowed back to field work.

**oOo**

The April night air was not as cold as some nights Harry had spent on the Astronomy Tower, but it still held a chill. He gazed over the clear night, moonlight dancing on the gently rippling water of the lake, an eerily graceful Thestral taking flight over the forest where a flock of birds suddenly burst from the trees, startled by some unknown source.

"Do you think Grawp is still there?" asked Hermione, breaking the heavy silence.

Harry shrugged. "I suppose."

"Yeah, he is," Ron confirmed. "Hagrid brought him along in our last Magical Creatures class to act as an 'assistant.' Grawp stepped on a Brazilian fire slug halfway through and burned up half of Hagrid's garden before we could put it out."

Harry chuckled. Good old Hagrid. Regret seeped into his amusement; with all that had been going on, he hadn't found much time to see Hagrid this year, and he missed his half-giant friend with the love for any and all creatures, including those that wanted nothing more than to rip him to shreds.

The silence returned, as pressing as the darkness. Hermione sat against the wall, her knees to her chest, while Ron walked around and around. Harry leaned over the battlements. Too many memories on these towers. A man flying away on a hippogriff … the sight of a teacher taking four stunning spells at once … a woman stepping backward off the edge …

"She is coming, right?" Ron asked.

"Of course," Hermione replied before Harry could. "You read her note. She promised to come regardless of the verdict."

Tonks had sent a note summarizing the events after each day of the trial, all delivered via Hedwig and charmed with a code word. Thursday's note promised to meet them on top of the Astronomy Tower if she wasn't back by dinner. So far they had been waiting for almost two hours. Much longer and they would have to depart before an Astronomy class arrived.

Hermione was now practicing transfiguration, conjuring and vanishing various objects without any uttered word. For a few minutes, Harry amused himself by vanishing her creations before she could, hiding his wand under his robes. When she caught on to him, Ron picked up. Harry was still grinning when the door opened.

"I'm sorry, I'm late," Tonks burst out. "I thought I'd never leave that dungeon."

She paced back and forth, rambling about the Wizengamot and solicitors and Ron's brother Percy and robes and something about pizza until Harry finally stepped in her way. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes, brown today, were wide and slightly wild. "I'm great. I've had a lot of coffee today. A lot. And I haven't eaten since lunch, so I think I'm a little jittery."

She fumbled in a pocket before bringing out a cigarette, trying to light it with her wand. When Harry noticed her hands were shaking, he took pity on her and brought a carefully controlled flame to the tip of his wand, holding it out to her.

"Thanks, Harry," she said gratefully, taking a long drag. "Er, what?" For both Ron and Hermione were unabashedly staring. "Oh. Sorry. I'll put it out if it bothers you. Unless you want one?"

"No."

"Well, I – no." Ron rubbed his side where Hermione elbowed him.

Tonks laughed. "Good, as death by Molly Weasley is not in my life plan. Although how Charlie has managed to slip that under her hawk-eyed gaze, I'll never know."

"Well?" Ron urged.

"The verdict, Tonks," prompted Hermione with more than a trace of impatience.

"Yeah, that." She took a deep breath and an even deeper smoke. "He's guilty. Ten years in Azkaban."

Ron whooped and pumped his fist in the air. Hermione gasped, leaning against the wall with her hand over her mouth and her eyes round. Harry staggered, one hand on a parapet. It had taken so long, so many months of waiting, from the first suspicion in Diagon Alley in August to now, and not at any point had he ever let himself truly believe Malfoy would be sent away. First they hit wall after wall, and even when the trial was upon them, he knew Malfoy would prove slippery once again.

And Azkaban … Now Harry rested his head in his hands. It was not guilt that weighed him down, for he knew Malfoy would have let everyone in the castle be killed if he had been able to follow through with his plan, but with the sheer enormity of the idea that he himself, Harry James Potter, had started something all on his own that had led to someone (someone his own age, at that) spending a decade in what was still the worst prison in Britain, dementors or not.

He pulled himself back to the present to find himself smiling. Whatever else, he had stopped a Death Eater plot, and no one had been killed. Even Katie had recovered. Ron was pelting Tonks with questions about every last detail, but Hermione took his arm.

"Ron, these can wait. I think Tonks is tired. I'm sure there will be a write-up in the _Daily Prophet_ tomorrow anyway."

"I'm sure," Tonks echoed with a half-smile for Hermione.

They said their goodbyes and made to leave. Tonks propped herself up in a crenel to finish her cigarette. Halfway through shutting the door, Harry paused.

"I'll catch up. I forgot something."

Ron eyed him doubtfully. "You sure, mate?"

"Yeah."

"We'll wait at the bottom of the stairs," said Hermione, either unable or not bothering to hide her misgivings.

"Dora? Er, Tonks?"

In her moonlight-silhouetted profile, he saw her chin rise, but her head didn't turn. "Which is it, Harry?"

"I haven't decided," he said honestly.

"Mmm-hmm. What's up?"

He approached slowly, telling himself exactly how this was going to go. She stood to face him when he reached her, sliding off the battlement and stubbing her cigarette out against the weather-worn stone.

"Still not a smoker?"

"Nope."

"How many days has it been?"

"Too many," she admitted with a hint of her former mischievous glint in her eyes. "Does it bother you?"

"I wouldn't want to –" He stopped, fully aware of what nearly slipped out of his mouth. _Kiss someone who had been smoking._ "– tell you what to do with your body," he finished lamely. It wasn't what he meant to say, and both knew it. "Besides, you look like you've had a hard week."

"I have."

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to say …"

And then he hugged her, and forgetting all his warnings to himself, he smelled the citrus scent of her hair and felt the contours of her body against his and breathed in the very essence that was Tonks. Despite everything, she leaned into him, both tightening their grips, and when he closed his eyes, the break-up hadn't happened.

Except it had. They withdrew, and he saw the question on her lips.

"We're still friends," he reminded her. "I want to say thank you. You were the first person to listen to me. We did this, you and I. We were a good team."

She coughed, looking away. "Yeah, I know we were. And I know we're still friends," she said slowly. "It's just I'm trying to figure out how that works."

"When you decide, let me know, okay?" They shared a smile, and then Harry realized that friends probably ought not still hold each other. He dropped his hands, clearing his throat, and she stepped back. "So as your friend, I think it's okay for me to ask if you need to talk, because you don't look nearly as happy as I thought you would be. I'm sorry the trial was hard on you."

"I am happy about this, I am. I'm glad he's going to Azkaban. But Harry, I can't shake the feeling that this isn't over."

"It is. He'll be in Azkaban soon. It has to be over."

"If you say so, Oh Wise One," she quipped with one of those half-smiles she seemed to prefer lately.

Harry jerked his head, not wanting this to night to end just yet. "Do you want to walk back with us?"

"No, I think I'll stay for a bit. The air is clearing my head."

"Okay. Good night, er, Tonks."

"Good night, Harry."

He headed for the door, wondering if Ron and Hermione were eavesdropping from the other side, but before he could think about it, he spun around and grabbed Tonks' hand. "Dora? I miss you."

She glanced at their joined hands, not dropping it as he expected but instead squeezing in return. "I miss you, too, Harry."


	35. Tests

**Tests**

The school was more abuzz than Harry had seen it since the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. No one talked about anything besides Malfoy. Flitwick ended a lesson early, McGonagall threatened to put an entire class in detention, and according to the fourth years, Snape did.

Crabbe and Goyle looked lost without the third member of their trio. As they'd helped Malfoy, Harry wondered how much of this was a surprise to them. Pansy Parkinson, Malfoy's sometime girlfriend, accosted Tonks after breakfast on the second consecutive day of Malfoy-related headlines in the _Daily Prophet_ and had to be taken away by Professors Slughorn and Vector to receive a calming draught from Madam Pomfrey.

"He didn't hurt anyone!" Pansy shrieked through hysterical tears. "You just hate him!"

Harry had just enough time to register that she'd raised her wand before it flew in the air, landing in Tonks' outstretched hand. "You don't want to do that," warned the Auror, her even tone at odds with her cold eyes, handing Pansy's wand to Slughorn.

"You want to calm yourself, Miss Parkinson," he soothed.

"You'll be sorry!"

"Now, Miss Parkinson, you can't go talking to an Auror like that," scolded Vector. "I think we'll go speak with Professor Dumbledore after you see Madam Pomfrey."

Tonks watched her disappear down the corridor, and Harry sensed she was restraining her amusement. When she turned around, a crowd of eagerly watching students greeted her, Harry, Ron, and Ginny among them. Tonks regarded the students for a moment before lifting her eyebrows. "Don't you lot have somewhere to be?" She winked at Ginny before they dispersed.

"Potter," a voice hissed as Harry headed for the Grand Staircase. He had a mountain of homework to do.

Harry turned, spotting Eric leaning against a window. "What's up?"

"You have something to do with this?" He waved a newspaper.

Harry didn't need to read the headline. "No, why?"

"I just remember you being very curious about Malfoy. Thought it was interesting is all."

"Malfoy's always been a big talker," replied Harry carefully. "I suppose he finally stopped talking and actually did something. Did you know anything about it?"

"What, because I'm a Slytherin?" Eric retorted, though his voice was free of acrimony. "No. Malfoy's always been a little shit, but I never knew he was into this. I asked Daphne – she's friends with Pansy, you know – but she said if Pansy knew, she kept her mouth shut."

"She'd have to be dumber than she acts to go around running her mouth about something like that." Eric laughed. "So you and Daphne are good friends?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so, why?"

"Just wondered."

"I know you lot are taught to hate Slytherins on sight, but Daphne's not bad," Eric said defensively. "Yeah, she's friends with Pansy and Pansy's a bitch, but she's not like her. I always figured they're friends because they kind of have to be. It's not like you see Granger or any of the rest lining up to be her best mate, do you?"

"I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to say it, Potter. Anyway, give Daph a chance and forget about her friends. Especially Tracey. Merlin, that girl never shuts up."

Harry raised his hands. "Yeah, I got it."

He thought about Eric's words as he trudged up the stairs. While Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw intermingled freely, it was a rare occasion indeed to see one on friendly terms with a Slytherin. True, those Harry had had the most exposure to – Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Theodore Nott, Millicent Bulstrode, Marcus Flint – often redefined nasty, but the rest were mostly names and faces to Harry. Eric had turned out alright. Perhaps all the negative things Harry had heard about the House over the years weren't always as true as he had believed.

**oOo**

Harry's first proper lesson with Burke was put off due to some mysterious business of Burke's. He chafed at the delay, but after picking up some clues in his continuing correspondence with Mad-Eye, he put two and two together and waited patiently. He wasn't the only one demanding some of Burke's time.

And, as he finally crawled into the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow late one night, his own uneasiness reminded him that perhaps a delay wasn't such a bad thing. He still had very little idea as to the true nature of Burke's character, and there was a distinct possibility he was setting himself up for disaster by trusting him. Nevertheless Harry had committed, and even as he steeled himself, tendrils of intrigue wound their way through him.

"Mr. Burke?" he called cautiously, emerging into the Shrieking Shack.

"In here, boy," was the reply in the familiar gravelly voice, not upstairs as Harry expected but down.

He found Burke in what looked to be an old drawing room on the first floor, except that it was far larger than indicated by the exterior size of the house. Torn, broken furniture was pushed aside, and Harry's de facto tutor stood in the middle, accompanied by nothing but his wand.

"Mr. Burke," Harry said as a greeting.

Burke acknowledged him with a nod. "Are you ready?"

"For wha–"

Harry barely had time to react with a shield when a stunner shot unerringly for his heart. He was forced back a few steps while it ricocheted into a nearby chair. Spells seemed to flow without end from Burke's wand. Harry rolled to one side, flicking his wand with an experienced twist of the wrist in an effort to knock the older man off his feet. Leaping out of the way of another spell, he threw out an incarcerous jinx as he landed. Harry dodged and parried and cast, but he might as well have been fighting a brick wall for all his success.

It was only a short time before a jet of light landed on his right wrist, numbing all the nerves in his hand and sending his wand clattering to the floor. He dove for it with his left hand, but something drove him back to the ground, feeling as if an invisible hand pinned his throat down with just enough pressure to be uncomfortable.

"I believe that's enough for now."

Harry was released, and he massaged his throat while reclaiming his wand, doggedly climbing to his feet.

"I do hope you have more spells in your arsenal."

"Of course I do," Harry muttered. "I was trying not to hurt you."

"Why? Do you not find me capable of defending myself?"

"It's obvious you are."

"Very well. Might I ask why you expended so much energy in your legs?"

Harry stared. "What do you mean?"

"Look at me." Burke gestured. He was more or less in the same place he had been when they started. "Most of my movement was due to you running in circles around me. You wasted more energy in moving than you did spellcasting."

Harry shuffled his feet and ran a hand through his hair, feeling stupid although he didn't know why. "You shouldn't present a fixed target to your opponent."

"Ah." Burke observed him dryly. "You've spent quite a bit of time with your Auror girlie, then. No, don't deny it. Whatever you do, don't lie to me, boy. I recognize Auror training when I see it. They're so … physical. And if it works for them, great. You might be interested to know that both that silly girl and her late partner would have put up far more of a fight than you did."

"They have years of training," Harry pointed out, on the defensive.

"Exactly. Look in that mirror, boy, and tell me what you see."

Caught between irritated and confused, Harry did so, staring at his reflection in a dusty, tarnished mirror hanging crookedly on one peeling wall. He blinked back at himself. Same Harry as always – green eyes, round glasses, messy black hair. He supposed he looked a bit weary.

"Er, I see me."

"More."

"What do you want? I'm Harry. I'm sixteen, a sixth year. I'm Quidditch captain and seeker for –"

Burke waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Enough. You are exactly as you say – a boy. A mere student. I know you've been told how special you are for your entire life, but I –"

"No," Harry interrupted, forcing a lid on his rising temper. "I haven't. If you must know, I was always told I was worthless until I came to Hogwarts, not that it's any of your business."

Burke raised one bushy eyebrow. "Interesting. Nevertheless, I want to make sure we're on the same page. What I can do is the summation of years upon years of study, and both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord have decades upon that. I will not waste my time with an arrogant boy who believes he's the Chosen One capable of being their equal after a summer of study."

"I'm not arrogant," Harry snapped angrily.

"Yes, you are," Burke returned in such a matter-of-fact manner it was almost hard to argue.

"I know I'm not as good as them, probably won't ever be, but that doesn't mean I can't try to become better. And I'm not useless, you know, I've fought Death Eaters and stuff."

"Defeating Death Eaters is different than being able to defeat Death Eaters, boy."

"What? I don't even …" Harry rubbed his head, glancing at the door, filled once again with doubts about this working out. "Don't call me boy. I have a name."

"Stop acting like one. Are you done pouting?"

"Are you done being an asshole?" Harry fired back.

Burke sighed, massaging his temple as he took a seat on a disgusting sofa Harry wouldn't have touched for the world. "Some would call that case in point, boy. Sit, sit. You look like you'll bolt for the door any moment, and it's highly irritating."

Startled at the about-face, Harry took a seat on the floor, leaning against the wall. Might as well at least hear him out. Stalking away like a child wouldn't get him anywhere.

"Magic is a tool of finite resources," Burke began quietly. "No one, not even Dumbledore himself, can cast spells forever, and despite his many faults, Dumbledore is a superb wizard. I spent much of my life traveling the world and seeking the beauty in magical artefacts. During that time and after, I have come to see the beauty in efficiency as well. Why waste your time and energy flourishing your wand when a simple swish does the trick? Why bother injuring an enemy when you can incapacitate him?"

"You can't go around killing everyone," Harry objected. "Sometimes you need to know what they know."

Burke inclined his head. "That is true, but there are ways to disable someone without it being fatal. My point is the way I wield magic values efficiency above all. Every twitch of your wrist, every shuffle of your feet, every thought means something. The largest arsenal of spell knowledge means little if you do not know how to properly apply each one to its best use. You have a spell which allows one to pierce through a human body. Where is the appropriate place to aim?"

"The … torso, I suppose."

"Why not the hand, for instance?"

Harry stifled a grimace at the mental images he was entertaining. "If you pierced through someone's hand, he wouldn't be able to use that hand, but he could keep fighting. In the torso, he's more likely to go down and stay down."

"Precisely. The heart, if one wishes to kill."

Burke drummed his fingers together and studied Harry, who lifted his chin, returning the gaze steadily. Each evaluated the other. Harry, for his part, hadn't lost his misgivings, but he remained intrigued. Burke certainly seemed to know what he was talking about, even if it jarred with what Tonks taught him at times.

Burke stood abruptly, his assessment apparently at an end. "There are drawbacks to my style of magic, of course, as there are to any style. It works best in a one-on-one situation and therefore craves a partner, someone you trust implicitly. Stand."

When Harry did so, fingering his wand, Burke conjured two thin wooden sticks, tossing one to Harry. He caught it on reflex, turning it over in contemplation. It looked like a small sword of some type, not the large one of medieval knights nor the curved blade of old-time pirates, but something more delicate. What was it called? A …

"A rapier," Burke announced, sheathing his wand, "is a graceful weapon. Much like the innocuous sticks of wood we call our wands, in the right hands it is capable of doing much more harm than it appears. Put your wand away and grasp your sword in your wand hand."

Harry didn't make a move. "Fencing? You want to teach me fencing?"

"Style first, spells later. You're learning magic up at the school, aren't you? Learn how to wield magic properly and save yourself a lot of wasted energy. I'll not have you waving your wand around like some upstart teenager who fancies himself half an Auror."

Harry gritted his teeth. "I don't fancy myself an Auror."

"I'm sure you don't. Now sheath your wand, boy."

More because he hoped to be able to wipe that derogative 'boy' right out of his mouth, Harry obeyed, albeit grudgingly. Burke walked around him, adjusting his stance and pose before standing opposite and mirroring his posture. Then they began.

At first the only instruction Harry received was to find a gap and exploit it. But everywhere his wooden rapier went, Burke was there first, meeting him with a THWACK. Bit by bit, Burke tossed out commands.

"Thrust and jab. Do not slash."

"Quicker. Out and back, out and back."

"Know where your feet are."

"Every step should have intention behind it."

"Loosen your wrist."

"Parry, boy, parry."

And so on and so forth. Harry's arm, unused to the weight, began to ache, and on a whim he switched to his left hand. He was clumsy, but as best he could tell, Burke approved of the move.

He wasn't sure he had the energy to make it back to his dorm by the time Burke called a halt. Amazingly, the older man wasn't nearly as out of breath as Harry.

"Make every single movement count," he said as Harry wiped the sweat from his brow. "Excess only wears you down. And for Merlin's sake, learn to close your mind. You may have some shielding when you're sitting there like this, but it drops the moment your mind moves on to other things. You must focus. An open mind is an open book for all the world to read, and that includes your opponent."

"How do you ...?" Harry panted.

"Years, boy. Years. If you only have months, you must work harder."

"Months? Why would you – how did you –" Harry was flabbergasted. There was no way Burke could know of Harry's trepidation regarding his upcoming birthday, the one when his mother's protection would disappear, not even through Legilimancy. That was hidden far too deep for Burke to penetrate without Harry's awareness.

"Guard your body as well as your mind, boy," was Burke's parting shot as he headed for the door, their session evidently over. "The same way I knew you lost your Auror girl."

Harry's return to Gryffindor Tower, his pride as bruised as his body where Burke's sword had gotten through, was slow, turning his thoughts and feelings over in his mind. Burke wanted to set his teeth on edge, that was clear, and Harry knew it worked. Calling him 'boy' just like Uncle Vernon, for a start, and insinuating he had a swollen head like Snape did.

Harry stopped so quickly he nearly tripped over himself, a lone figure standing stock still on the dark Hogwarts grounds. That was it. His irritation at Burke's treatment of him, the man's knowledge of things Harry never put to words, the warnings to close his body and remove his heart from his sleeve – Burke wasn't reading Harry's mind, he was reading his reactions.

Torn between admiration for Burke being able to read him so easily and shame at himself for the same fact, Harry resumed his trek, thoughtful. Burke may have been irascible and cryptic, but he wasn't an enemy. If he could exploit Harry's weaknesses, then so could someone who truly wished him harm.

For the first time since he sent off the original letter, Harry felt a glimmer of hope that this was the right choice. Perhaps Burke was teaching him more than fencing.

**oOo**

Another Saturday, another meeting with Dumbledore. Harry offered the latest password to the stone gargoyle like they were old friends and soon found himself seated in his customary chair, wandless and currently inhabiting a potion-induced dream state.

He was walking through the corridors of Hogwarts, the castle empty and quiet. He turned suddenly, certain he heard something behind him, but there was nothing. He continued on his walk, pausing after a few feet. He looked one way, then the other before throwing his hand up toward a door, making it fly shut with a slam. He waited several seconds before moving on, his surroundings providing no clue to any particular Hogwarts corridor. The scene repeated itself again and again, and each time Harry saw nothing but shut the doors all the same.

And then it was fading and dissolving, and Harry was back in Dumbledore's office, blinking against the light to make out a very pleased Headmaster.

"Well done, Harry, well done indeed," he praised his student. "You did not overreact, merely blocking me each time you were alerted to my presence without allowing any invasions, and equally as well, you did not attempt to physically stop me with your real body."

"Did I?" Harry asked, rubbing his head. Only wisps of the dream remained, as fleeting as any that came about naturally.

"Yes, you did. I am quite pleased with your progress. Subconscious Occlumency often provides a very large stumbling block."

"I've been trying to clear my mind every night," said Harry. "Tonks and Cooper both showed me calming techniques. Only sometimes I fall asleep before I finish."

The Headmaster smiled. "Sleep claims us all in the end. Do not let that cast a shadow on your progress. Although it takes years to become a fully-fledged Occlumens for whom mental shields are less than a thought, you have made great strides in a short time."

"Especially considering how awful I was last year," Harry remarked, rather proud of himself. Snape thought him rubbish. "How do you think it will take for me to block you when you're actually trying hard?"

That brought a twinkle to Dumbledore's eyes, but it seemed to diminish somewhat when he spoke. "Longer than we have at the moment, I am afraid. With time ever hovering over our shoulders, let us move on. What shall we cover next?"

Was he asking Harry? "Um ... you don't have more?"

"I have many things I wish to teach you, but in the past you indicated you have an agenda of your own. I thought perhaps you would like to pursue that."

Oh. Harry blinked, surprised. A dozen ideas raced through his mind, ranging from the dark arts to a further study into magic itself, but the words that sprang to his mouth were, "I want to talk about Draco Malfoy."

The mask of the Headmaster's face remained impassive. "Go on."

"The Wizengamot found him guilty. He admitted to being a Death Eater, to plotting to allow Voldemort into the school. Why do you still believe he's innocent?"

"Innocence and guilt are not as black and white as you would have them. Does Draco Malfoy bear the Dark Mark? Yes. Was he sent back to Hogwarts last summer under orders from Voldemort? Yes. I know this. My doubt, Harry, lies in the fulfillment of those orders. As you yourself know very well, receiving orders does not mean that one will follow them."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. How could someone so smart deliberately ignore what lay under his crooked nose? "But, sir, we saw him working on that cabinet. He admitted it. If that's not following orders, I don't know what is."

"You and Miss Tonks were not the only ones watching Draco this year. If at any point in time I believed my students were in any real danger, I would have stepped in. If you believe anything I have ever said, believe that."

"What about Katie Bell?" Harry asked bluntly.

"Draco has neither admitted to nor been found guilty of any harm toward Miss Bell," Dumbledore answered quietly, his fingers folded over his long beard.

Harry glanced around the office in frustration, slumping in his cushioned chair. Many of the portraits of former Headmasters were snoozing, but a few returned his gaze. Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius' great-great-grandfather and least popular Head ever, scowled and pointedly looked away when Harry met his dark eyes, but Dilys Derwent, on the other end of the spectrum as an extremely popular Head, smiled somewhat sadly.

"You think you could have saved him," he said after a period of silence.

"I believe he is not unredeemable, yes."

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose, choosing his words carefully. "Malfoy was happy to be a Death Eater. I was the one who heard him brag about it. Do you ever wonder if you give people too many second chances? I mean, Snape –"

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected.

"How do you know _Professor_ Snape is truly on our side? Why would he join up and then switch?"

"He has his own reasons, Harry." Something in his tone made Harry look up, but Dumbledore held up a hand. "I cannot tell you, for he wishes me to keep them secret, but you must believe me when I tell you I absolutely trust Severus Snape with my life."

His voice, though mild, was completely and utterly serious, and Harry held his piercing gaze, knowing in his gut Dumbledore believed his own words. But why?

"Trust, mercy, and forgiveness are not undesirable traits," continued the Headmaster. "You once demonstrated that."

"And I've regretted it ever since," Harry snapped harshly. "If I had just let Sirius and Remus do what they wanted, Pettigrew would be dead. Voldemort wouldn't have returned. Cedric would be alive, Amelia Bones would be alive, Emmeline Vance would be alive, and – and Sirius would be alive. Alive and free."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore allowed as if they were discussing a mildly interesting book. "Would you be prepared to pay that cost, to allow your parents' best friends to become cold-blooded murderers?"

"If the alternative is letting other cold-blooded murderers roam freely, then yes. I think we'll all have to do things we don't want to before this is over. I don't mean any disrespect, Professor, but I wonder if you get that. From what Sirius told me, the Order was losing badly before my mum stopped Voldemort. The price has to be paid somewhere, doesn't it?"

Dumbledore took off his glasses, cleaning them on his robes before perching them on his nose again. His face shone with weariness in every line. "On that we agree, Harry. The price must be paid somewhere. Despite what you may think to the contrary, I do have a very clear idea of how high it is. It is my wish for you never to discover that, but I fear I shall be wrong."

Enough light filled the room to make every nuance in Dumbledore's expression visible to Harry, and the teen shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the sorrow and pain he saw. He often found half of what Dumbledore said to be cryptic and multifaceted, but this seemed very straightforward. He didn't know why, but he instinctively believed Dumbledore knew exactly what he was talking about, and for some reason Harry found it unnerving. Almost absently, his hand drifted to his forehead, rubbing his scar.

**oOo**

As the days rushed toward May, Harry pushed himself harder and harder. Weekdays were classes, scribbling essays for Snape and practicing spells for McGonagall in the few minutes in between, using those free periods Ron had been so happy about to revise and revise again for their upcoming exams. Even Charms, originally one of the easiest and most fun classes, became a chore. Weekends, which had once been time for sleeping in and lazy play, were now full of Quidditch practice, apparition lessons, meetings with Dumbledore where they continued to discuss horcruxes and dissect magic, and Sunday study groups.

Evenings were more Quidditch practice and homework again, and his nights were split between the DA and lessons with Burke. On the rare night Harry had neither, he often went to the Room of Requirement on his own, practicing both Occlumency and fencing. And if he happened to find himself with time to sit in a cozy chair in the common room, he read a book from the Restricted Section until he fell asleep and Ron or Hermione prodded him, with increasing concern, to go to bed. The books themselves ranged from near-unintelligible to morbid, including one that gleefully and gruesomely described the best way to dismember a body.

To put it simply, Harry was exhausted. On a sunny day near the end of April, the majority of the sixth years were excused from afternoon classes to take their apparition tests in Hogsmeade. Finding himself with only Ernie Macmillan in Potions, Harry greatly hoped Slughorn would simply cancel class, giving him the opportunity for a much-needed nap.

No such luck. "Don't come of age until the summer, eh?" Slughorn boomed, looking from Ernie to Harry. "Don't worry, lads, you'll get your licenses soon enough. Since it's just the three of us, I'll go easy on you today: make any potion you like from your copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_, so long as we haven't made it in class yet."

Sharing a glum look with Ernie (he, too, had hoped to skive off), Harry flipped through his textbook, settling on an ageing potion. A grin tugged at his mouth as he remembered Fred and George Weasley with identical white beards.

The warm sunlight filtering through the windows and heavy, smoky fumes from the cauldrons didn't help his fatigue. He fought back a yawn as he crushed his vitex plant into a fine powder, trying to concentrate. _One cup of water must be brought to a boil before herbs and plants are added …_ His heavy eyelids drooped, and he blinked rapidly to open them. _The fire must be lowered so the potion can stew for …_

BANG!

Harry jerked awake. The contents of Ernie's cauldron dripped all over his desk, under which the other boy had taken cover.

"I think that's enough for today, Mr. Macmillan," Slughorn said, waving away the smoke and coughing. "Let's see what you – ah, not your best day either, Mr. Potter."

Harry's cauldron emitted burping sulfuric bubbles from a thick purple sludge, about as far from the book's description of the potion as it could get.

Slughorn vanished both potions. "We all have off days, boys. Why don't you go and use the rest of the time to study?"

Harry shoved his book in his bag and took off gratefully. He had just enough time for a quick nap in his favorite armchair before –

"Harry! I passed!"

Inwardly sighing, Harry forced a pleased smile on his face as Hermione approached him at the front of the flood of sixth years. By the occasional dispirited face, not everyone was as successful.

"Well done, Hermione. How about Ron?"

Her face fell. "Oh, um, he just barely –"

"Failed." Ron's expression was thunderous. "You don't just barely fail. You either pass or you don't. I didn't."

"But you were so close," Lavender placated him. "Only your eyebrows were left behind."

"You can take the test again with me this summer, mate," said Harry. "It's not like you can apparate while you're here anyway."

"Easy for you to say. You were the first to apparate in our class."

"It's not that bad, Ron," said Hermione. "Didn't you say Charlie ended up miles away on his first test?"

Ron's expression lightened slightly. "Yeah, he did. Suppose I wasn't that bad. And maybe I'll pass before the twins find out. They'll never stop taking the piss out of me if they do."

"I'm sure you will," cooed Lavender, looping her arm through his. "And then think of all the things we can do this summer …"

Harry watched the couple lope away. Now that they'd toned down their exhibitionist relationship, he didn't mind Lavender dating Ron. It had done wonders for Ron's confidence, and they genuinely seemed to care for each other. Not to mention that Harry now knew how it felt to break up with someone for whom he truly cared. Unfortunately, seeing other couples just reminded Harry that he had no one.

"Hey, Harry." Parvati fell in step with them.

"Hi, Parvati. How did you do?"

"I passed! I was nervous, too, since I hadn't apparated yet in practice. But I just concentrated, and … there I was."

"That's great. I'm glad for you. How did everyone else do?"

"Let's see … Seamus failed, Crabbe and Goyle did, of course, but Padma passed, Dean passed …"

"Terry and Anthony passed, and so did Susan," added Hermione. "I think about three-quarters of us passed, which Twycross said is normal. What did I miss in Potions?"

Harry shared a look with Parvati. Typical Hermione. "Nothing. Slughorn let us make whatever we wanted." He was _not_ going to tell her he fell asleep.

Only Hermione could look disappointed at that. "Oh, I suppose I didn't miss anything, then."

"I'm sure Slughorn will set you a potion if you ask nicely," he suggested helpfully. Parvati sniggered.

"That won't be necessary," replied Hermione loftily.

Parvati laughed, badly disguised as a cough. "I have to go catch up with Padma, we said we'd owl our parents after the test. Bye, Harry, Hermione!"

"See you later," Harry called before realizing Hermione looking at him. "What?"

"You should be careful," she advised in a low voice.

"You know me, 'careful' is my middle name. Er, what should I be careful about, by the way?"

Hermione gave him one of those looks girls always gave when they thought the answer was obvious. "Parvati still fancies you, although I don't know why."

"Thanks, Hermione," he said sarcastically. "What happened to me being more fanciable than ever?"

She blushed to her core. "I regret ever saying that. I only mean everyone knows you don't fancy her. You tried it and it didn't work out. But she still likes you."

"How do you know, oh wise one?"

"Can't you tell?"

"No, I can't. I can't ever tell what you lot are on about. You act one way and then you say something completely the opposite," he said, trying to swallow the bitterness. "Even you, sometimes … you were supposed to fancy Ron but you're always having a go at each other."

Her face was now as red as the aforementioned Weasley's hair. "Well that's – that's completely different!" she sputtered. "Besides, I told you I was over that. Anyway, she and Lavender talk, too. Not to me, very often, but they talk and I hear. She admitted she still fancies you."

Something in her voice struck him. "Hermione, do you ever get lonely in the girls' dorm?"

"No, not really. Of course the other girls are closer to each other than me, but I have you and Ron and Ginny and Neville and even Luna, which is a lot more than I'd ever thought I'd have those first few months here at Hogwarts. If you had told me then that Ron Weasley and Harry Potter would be my best friends, I would have said you were as mad as –"

"As a couple of first years taking on a troll?" Harry suggested wryly.

She smiled. "Something like that. But don't change the subject. The point is, you shouldn't take advantage of Parvati's feelings just because you're hurt or confused, even if you don't realize you're doing it."

Harry began to object, then shut his mouth, considering her words. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. I think I'm just now figuring out how difficult 'staying friends' can be."

**oOo**

A high point amongst all the activity was the revival of the DA, going better than Harry ever expected. The strong stone walls and magical enchantments around Hogwarts hadn't entirely spared the students of the encroaching dangers of the war around them. The deaths of Susan Bones' aunt and Hannah Abbott's mother, the disappearance of Ollivander, the attack on and subsequent death of the Montgomery sisters' little brother, Katie's incident, even the death of Cooper although most of the girls referred to him as 'that cute Auror bloke' – all spurred the teenagers to take their own defense more seriously than ever. After only a few meetings, Harry was growing confident that if Tonks' prediction came true and Hogwarts was still at risk, his friends could at least defend themselves long enough to escape.

"And if you do it like this, you'll find you have more control over your shield," he instructed late one night. "Then you can direct your opponent's spell back at them instead of ricocheting off blindly. Ron?"

Nodding, Ron strode into the middle of the room, facing Harry. After a moment's pause, he sent a quick body-bind spell (nonverbally, Harry was pleased to note) directly toward him. Harry waited for just the right time, and then – Ron fell on his back, frozen in place.

Everyone clapped while Hermione cast the counterspell, but Harry tried to shrug it off. He was only demonstrating the very basics of what Tonks taught him.

They split into pairs and began to practice. Harry walked around, offering individual critiques, his wand at the ready for the spells that went off course.

"You have to wait for the right moment," he patiently coached little Dennis Creevey, just as undersized and excitable as his older brother Colin. "Too early and it will go wild, too late and the shield won't hold."

He passed Hermione, working with Susan, and cast a counterjinx out of pity on Michael Corner, who was dancing around under the _tarantallegra_ spell while Cho, his partner, claimed through her giggles that she couldn't remember the proper spell. Then he made his way to the end of the room where Ginny and Dean were, but instead of practicing like everyone else, they argued.

"Honestly, Dean," Ginny was saying with exasperation when Harry drew close enough to hear. "I'm not a glass figurine. Just do it."

He shifted his feet, clearly uncomfortable sending a hex at his girlfriend. "It's only I don't want to hurt you, Ginny."

She rolled her eyes. "You're not going to hurt me. It's not like you're Harry or –"

Harry wasn't the only one who caught his breath at that. The nearer pairs dropped all pretense of practice and stared at the quarreling couple. They, however, seemed oblivious to the scrutiny.

"Dean, I didn't –"

"No, you know what? You're right." Dean's dark glare extended to include Harry. "I'm definitely not Harry."

Stunning the entire group (except for Terry Boot, who was actually stunned and lay motionless while his partner, Anthony Goldstein, was too busy watching the row to revive him), Dean stormed out of the Room of Requirement, slamming the door. Ginny made no step to follow, although her face was pale under her freckles.

Harry hastily cleared his throat. "That's enough for tonight," he said loudly, casting a _rennervate_ at Terry, who sat up, thoroughly confused at the inactivity around him. "We'll meet again in a few days."

Trusting his classmates to arrange inconspicuous departures on their own, he returned to Ginny. Hermione was already at her side, along with Ron and Luna.

"I think you should go after him," Hermione advised quietly.

Ginny sighed. "I know I should, but if I'm honest, I almost can't be arsed. We've had this same row for weeks. He's treats me like I'm some sort of delicate glass sculpture."

"I can't believe he went off and left you like this," growled Ron. "I should find him and drag him back here."

"Shut up, Ron."

"If you don't want my help," Ron began angrily.

"I don't want your help," was her immediate reply. "Why are you acting all big-brotherly over a relationship you complained about the entire time? Just go, Ron. Everyone can go, actually, I'm fine."

Muttering under his breath, Ron left, accompanied by Hermione and Lavender, who had hung back with the Patils.

Luna wandered over. "It's probably wrackspurts. Teenage boys attract them more than anyone."

Ginny looked as if she had a hot retort on her lips, but she glanced at Luna and sighed again. "Maybe, Luna. Thanks."

"Anytime," the blonde replied serenely. "Padma, are you going back to Ravenclaw?"

Still Harry stayed where he was, highly uncomfortable but somehow feeling responsible for the argument. Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "If she thinks wrackspurts are what teenage boys are full of, she's in for a big surprise," she murmured wryly.

"Yeah," he agreed, cracking a smile. "You want to walk back with us?" He tilted his head to indicate Parvati, who was the last one to remain.

"Sure." They left and walked through the darkened corridors quietly for a while before Ginny cleared her throat. "Sorry for making you end early."

"No, it wasn't your fault. We'd covered enough, right, Parvati?" She nodded. "Listen, Ginny, I'm –"

"It's not you," she said abruptly. "Well, it is, a bit. It's just that Dean is always so bloody protective of me."

"That just means he cares," suggested Parvati.

"I know, but I don't need him to hover over me all the time. I grew up with six brothers, I play Quidditch, I fought in the Department of Mysteries – I'm not going to break. Even when he –" She threw a glance at Harry, flushing. "Even when he kisses me, he's so careful. And then ... I made the mistake of mentioning I used to fancy you."

His shoulders tensed. He had hoped Ginny had gotten over her childhood crush on him, knowing he didn't return her feelings, but now ...

Thankfully, she rushed to continue. "I don't anymore. You've spent so much time at our house with Ron, I just see you as one of them now, but ever since, Dean has been jealous of you. I shouldn't have said that to him in the Room of Requirement just now. I only meant if it were you or Hermione, I'd be more worried. But there's no good way to put that, is there?"

Parvati murmured an agreement while Harry didn't say anything. Relationship advice was much more Hermione's forte, not his, especially considering how all of his relationships had ended.

"Just remind him that Harry's not a threat to him," Parvati said.

"Yeah ... maybe. I don't know what I want to do."

She wasn't given much time to think about it, for after another turn, closing in on the portrait of the Fat Lady, Dean stepped out from next to a tapestry that Harry knew concealed a passageway.

"Hey, Ginny. Can we talk?"

"Uh ... sure." The smile she gave Harry and Parvati was more than a little wan, but she went off with Dean anyway.

Hermione's warning fresh in his mind, Harry found himself tongue-tied. Now he was afraid anything he said would be taken the wrong way. The last thing he wanted to do was lead Parvati on or ruin their reestablished friendship.

Parvati, however, took the choice away from him. "You've changed," she said out of nowhere.

"What?"

"Not in a bad way," she amended quickly. "It's just ... you always disappear somewhere, and when I do see you, you have your nose buried in a book like Hermione. And you never smile anymore."

"I smile," he protested.

"Not often. You've never been a cheerful sort, Harry, and it's not a bad thing, really, because you're kind of cute when you're broody, but ..."

She waved her hand, seeming to grapple with what she was trying to say, but Harry wouldn't have heard if she had continued speaking. His mind was on another time in another place with another girl who thought him cute when brooding. With great effort he forced himself to forget it.

"... and while the rest of us think about exams and what to do when we leave Hogwarts next year and – and if our crush fancies us or not, you're like on some different level entirely." Harry tried to respond but stopped himself, unsure of what to say to that when there was so much truth in it. She mistook that as offense and hurried to clarify. "I know you have a lot on your mind. You told me that weeks ago, and everyone knows what happened on Easter. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you have friends for a reason, Harry. Lighten up every once in a while."

"Yes, Professor," he teased.

She faked a look of astonishment. "Is Harry Potter actually joking and smiling? Have I fallen into an alternate universe?"

He laughed, an actual laugh straight from his belly. "Thanks, Parvati. I think I need that sometimes. I'm really glad we've gotten to know each other better this year."

"Yeah, me, too," she said, turning rather shy.

There was something about the look she gave him, and Harry cursed to himself. Girls. Someday he'd get it right. Hopefully.


	36. Mission

**Mission**

"Everyone knows what you're supposed to do?" A murmur of agreement. "Where you're supposed to be?" Another murmur. "And what your goal is?" A final murmur. "Right then, no point in bandying it about any longer. Off with you, and try not to get killed."

Good old Mad-Eye, Tonks mused. So encouraging. She'd never say it to his face, but his so-called 'retirement' had mellowed him. The Mad-Eye of her training days would never have accepted a murmur of agreement; indeed, anything less than a robust 'Yes, sir!' was cause for laps in those days. And then Tonks decided the war must have really gotten to her if she was starting to wax nostalgic about those three years of hell.

She drained her cup of pumpkin juice as the meeting of the Order-that-wasn't-the-Order split up. They really needed to come up with a name for themselves. Tonight's mission was a three-pronged strike at the Death Eaters; it would neither destroy nor cripple the group, but if successful, it would at hurt them as well as provide groundwork for future raids.

"Hold on," she said. "Everyone knows this is outside the law, right? If any of us get caught, the Ministry will want our arses as much as the Death Eaters."

"Then don't get caught," Mad-Eye said bluntly.

"I just want to make sure everyone knows where we stand."

"We all understand the risks," Kingsley reassured her, deep and slow. She nodded, mustering a smile, and pondered at her uncharacteristic fretting.

The first group, headed by Kingsley, set off. Accompanied by Mad-Eye's crony Edmund Plummer and the Weasley twins, they were to disrupt a black market supply ring used by those known Death Eaters who'd escaped Azkaban and were now living as fugitives. Ironically, it had been discovered by her father and his business partner Gustav as they prepared to set up their own underground supply of goods should Voldemort take over completely.

"Fred, George!" Tonks called while Edmund and Gus went over last minute details.

Two identical grins were bestowed on her. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" Fred queried.

"Be careful," she said without preamble. "Your mother will murder me if anything happens to one of you."

George waggled his eyebrows. "Such concern from a pretty lady. If I had someone like you to come back to, you'd have nothing to worry about. Alas, I have only his ugly mug to wake up to each day."

"Better looking than yours," Fred retorted.

Tonks laughed and gave each twin a kiss on his cheek. "There's another one waiting when you come back."

"I'll never wash my cheek again," George vowed solemnly, holding one hand to his face in mock rapture.

She laughed again as Kingsley summoned them and off they went. No matter how bad things got, the twins always had ready smiles and jokes, and that was an invaluable trait. As brave as they came and talented to boot, she couldn't imagine anything happening to one or both.

Mad-Eye left next, along with Hestia, Sturgis, and Amos Diggory. In perhaps the most dangerous mission of the night, their target was a living, breathing Death Eater, one of the few to have escaped Azkaban and therefore possibly one of the most dangerous. And, the belief was, one of the most knowledgeable.

The door closed behind Amos, and Tonks let out a measured breath. In five minutes her group would depart. Her group, as in three people under her command. Even the newest Auror had an edge over the average witch or wizard, and this particular mission was right up her alley. As the DMLE official who had interviewed her in her last year at Hogwarts had said, metamorphmagi might as well have been made to order for undercover infiltration.

She picked up the file containing their intel. She didn't know why; it was long since committed to memory. These missions had been in the works for months. With their own reconnaissance supplemented by filched Ministry dossiers, every team had more than enough to achieve their goals. Surprising all, Mad-Eye said it had been Harry who had kicked everything into gear.

Tonks shut down those thoughts in a hurry. The less she lingered on him, the better. Jumping up, she nodded at Remus and Burke, tapping her watch. And as for the fourth member of the group … She stuck her head into the kitchen only to find that person saying a very thorough goodbye to her mother.

Blanching, she retreated, making sure to cough very loudly before returning. "Let him go, Mum, it's time."

"She's the boss," said Ted, giving his wife one last kiss. "And a very demanding taskmaster at that."

"Be careful, my love," replied Andromeda. "And you, too, Nymphadora."

Tonks allowed a brief hug, trying to disentangle herself when her mother tightened the embrace. "We'll be fine as long as we aren't late. You know what they say: defer no time; delays have dangerous ends."

"Can't argue with that, whatever it means. We'll take care of each other and be back before you know it, Dromeda."

Finally Tonks was able to chivy him out the door. Meeting Burke and Remus in the garden, they departed from the apparition point one by one. She was last. Giving a long look to the figure she knew gazed out the kitchen window, she twisted on the spot and disapparated silently.

**oOo**

Kingsley made sure to keep several paces between himself and the Weasleys, tugging the cowl of his cloak further over his eyes. It wasn't uncommon for figures to be cloaked in Knockturn Alley, especially these days, and it wouldn't do for an Auror's presence to be known. Conversely, the twins were their bright and boisterous selves, but as practitioners in nearby Diagon Alley, no one would find their presence too remarkable.

They stopped to browse a stall outside an alchemist's shop. Kingsley kept his course, passing the twins without a second glance. All according to plan. The stop-and-pass maneuver was an indication that neither party had noticed anyone watching or pursuing.

He turned right, slipping into yet another district but didn't look behind him, trusting the twins followed. Deeper and deeper into the seedy underbelly of wizarding London they traveled until they switched leads again. Kingsley allowed the twins out of sight, knowing their destination.

He entered the store next to their target. "Just browsing," he murmured to the eager sales assistant, keeping his head down and emitting an unfriendly vibe.

"If you need anything," the employee replied in an oily voice, backing away.

The store was otherwise empty, which was unfortunate as it meant the salesman would keep his eye on Kingsley. He'd have to find a way to shake him. Letting his browsing lead him to the window, he glanced at the street just in time to watch the twins enter the store next door. A few minutes later, a heavily disguised Edmund went in as well.

Excellent. Everyone was in place.

**oOo**

Tonks crossed her legs, making sure her skirt inched higher. Mark (No. Marcus. Definitely Marcus) was drooling over her already. All she needed to do was assure him she was a done deal, and they'd be on their way upstairs. Where, she knew, lay the true object of her desire.

The kid was an idiot, and that was putting it nicely. They were fairly certain he wasn't even a fully-fledged Death Eater yet, working as little more than a messenger, but even a messenger could be useful. And this one was dumb enough to have evidence of his activities.

Speaking of … He leaned forward with a lecherous grin. What was up with those teeth? She almost swore he had a bit of troll blood in him. "It's getting crowded in here. What do you say we go somewhere a bit more private?"

It was all she could do not to groan at the cheesy line. What film did he get that from? Nevertheless, she could smell the whiskey on his breath a mile away, which would only make her job easier. "I thought you'd never ask, sweetheart," she replied, making sure to bring her own glass with her. If he wanted to use terrible, clichéd lines, she was more than up to the task.

Hand in hand, they headed upstairs to the rooms that resided over the seedy bar. She very much hoped she wouldn't actually have to touch the bed. In an establishment such as this, bed bugs were the least of her concerns.

They passed her father, hunched over and scowling at an empty glass. He wasn't keen on this plan at all, which she suspected was the reason he made sure to be attached to this mission. Well, he would have to deal. It wouldn't be the first time she had used the fact that she was a woman (and an ability to enlarge her breasts a full cup size) to her advantage.

Marcus led her to a room on the third floor. "We have the entire floor reserved for our use," he bragged.

"And you really work directly for … _him_?" she breathed. "Helping the cause?"

"Of course. I'd tell you more, but I can't. You understand." He winked.

This entire situation was laughable. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't in some B-movie detective flick; they might as well have been reading lines from a script. "You're so brave," she gushed.

"It's nothing. I'm only doing my part."

Opening the door, he gestured for her to precede him. She did so, trying not to grimace at the dingy furnishings and instead letting her gaze linger pointedly on the bed. Marcus caught her eye and smiled broadly.

Her returning grin wasn't fake at all. Oh yes, this would be fun.

**oOo**

Moody's magical eye roamed back and forth across the street in front of him. Nothing out of place that he could detect. The house was undoubtedly protected by strong wards, evidenced by the fact that even his eye couldn't pierce the walls. But Yaxley was there; he'd seen the Death Eater arrive with his normal eye.

Very well. If they couldn't get in, the only solution would be to make Yaxley come out. There were a variety of ways, of course, but often the most simple proved the most effective.

Moving as quietly as possible, Moody stumped toward a park down and across the road, taking care to ensure his invisibility cloak stayed in place. He had, of course, tested it before the mission. He tested it daily. Enviously Moody recalled Potter's invisibility cloak. Now that was a true tool, not like these cheap ones that would tear and fade. If he added up how much he'd spent on these cloaks throughout his career, he could probably afford a second magical eye. Not that he wanted – he remembered only too well how ill the first had made him until he became used to the 360-degree visibility.

Sturgis sat on a bench, smoking and reading a newspaper. Moody whistled his approach before sitting, his only response a slight flutter of Sturgis' fingers as he continued to read his paper. Speaking through his teeth, he outlined his instructions. Under Polyjuice, Sturgis wasn't recognizable, whereas Moody had foregone disguise in favor of maintaining the useful advantage of his magical eye.

Sturgis crossed his legs when Moody finished speaking, acknowledging the orders. Moody was back in place across from the house before Sturgis came up, whistling as befit his borrowed appearance of a much younger man. Without any ado he strode to the front door and rang the bell.

**oOo**

Kingsley browsed the store slowly, a deceiving appearance as his mind worked rapidly. He nodded at the attentive employee as he passed before rounding a corner and stepping behind a tall shelf. He flicked his wand in the general direction of the ceiling, sending a charm in a long arc over the shelves of goods. The tinkling noise of breaking glass sounded from the front.

"Damn kids," the salesman muttered to himself as he hurried past.

The moment he was out of sight, Kingsley slipped past the till and pointed his wand at the door to the back of the shop with a simple unlocking charm. Standing behind it, he pulled the door shut until he could just peek out. When the salesman came back into sight, Kingsley pointed his wand at the front again, the result this time the sound of a shutting door. The salesman turned around again, giving Kingsley the time to shut and lock the door with a silent _colloportus_.

There. Now the employee would think Kingsley had left. He prowled through the dark storeroom silently, alert for other employees, but he arrived at the rear of the shop unmolested and undetected. He slipped into the empty alley and walked to the back door of the next shop.

He wasn't so lucky in this shop. The owner, whom Kingsley immediately recognized as his target, sprang to his feet upon Kingsley's entrance.

"What the devil –?" he began angrily before Kingsley stunned him.

Kneeling over the prone figure, he whistled a certain pattern softly, his wand ready for any other employees. Less than a minute later Edmund made an appearance.

"About time, Shacks. Go on, then, the Weasley boys have it well in hand up front. They're keeping the employees more than occupied."

"Keep watch," Kingsley instructed.

Blocking out his surroundings and attuning his mind to a singular task, Kingsley stared at the unconscious store owner and black market dealer. It was easier when the subject was awake and thus able to establish eye contact, but he gritted his teeth and set to it.

Had the Auror been aware of the passing of time, he would have known it wasn't long. He knew exactly what he sought, and once he found the memories of dealings with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, he conjured a vial, depositing a copy of each memory inside it. It was a most meticulous process, and he was thorough. The task accomplished, he brought his wand to his subject's head, concentrating even harder. Modifying memories was much more difficult than finding them. Once he was satisfied the shopkeeper had no memory of working with Voldemort, he nodded at Edmund.

"Almost finished. You know the signal for the twins?" Edmund nodded, this time bringing his wand to bear on the storeowner just as Kingsley did. "Go ahead, Ed."

"_Rennervate._"

"_Confundo_," Kingsley murmured as soon as his eyes opened. They immediately turned hazy. "You will cease any and all illegal black market activities. You will close your shop and turn yourself in to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic. This will be of your own volition. You will not remember this encounter."

The (now former) black market dealer nodded vaguely. When Kingsley released him, he shuffled into his storeroom in a daze.

"Right, Shacks. Let's scarper before –"

A white spectral form in the shape of a chimpanzee floated into the room, opening its mouth and speaking with the voice of George Weasley. "Unwelcome visitors up front. We have a distraction prepared. Go on and we'll meet you back at HQ."

Edmund didn't need to be told twice, heading for the door, but Kingsley hesitated, glancing toward the front of the store. He really didn't want to leave the twins on their own with Death Eaters. However, they'd planned for this eventuality, and their role was to do just as they said. Distractions, Fred had said with a wink, were their specialty.

"Come on," Edmund urged.

With one last look of unease, Kingsley followed, making his departure down the back alley and into the main street several stores down. They had apparated away before an explosion rocked the street, leaving the store in flames.

**oOo**

"So …" Marcus took Tonks' glass and set it on a table with his, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Enough about the Dark Lord. Let's talk about you – and me."

"I'm just going to go, ah, freshen up," she said, slipping out of his grasp with a teasing smile. "I'll be right back. Finish your drink." She handed him a glass, making sure it was her own.

In the loo she slipped a small device that looked like a monocle out of her purse. Something the Weasley twins had developed after studying Mad-Eye's eye (and would never be for sale), this was only a prototype, but thus far it passed all tests. She held it to one eye and pressed against the door, drawing her wand from her purse at the same time.

The door gradually dissolved into the scene beyond, still fuzzy but clear enough. Marcus finished her drink, and after glancing at the bathroom, the one he thought to be hers. _Prat._ Then he sniffed his armpit – oh, _gross_ – before facing the bed, preparing to turn it down. With his back to her, it was time for her move.

Dropping the monocle into her purse, she opened the door, her wand already halfway through casting with a curse on her lips. A jet of red light struck his back before he knew what was going on, and he dropped to the bed like a sack of potatoes.

Now for the distasteful part. She tugged his shoes and shirt off, tossing them on the floor, and then, wrinkling her nose, his trousers, leaving him in his pants and socks. Maneuvering him under the blanket, she made sure to muss the other side of the bed, twisting the sheets. Working quickly, she briefly turned on the shower and dropped a damp towel on the floor. Then she found a piece of parchment with a quill on the desk.

_It's been fun, sweets, but I gotta run. Work calls. You were bloody amazing. Floo me!_

Left undisturbed, the drug she'd mixed in her drink would not only ensure that he slept until dawn but also that he woke with a massive hangover, hopefully enough to convince him he drank so much he blacked out. To be sure, she conjured an empty firewhiskey bottle, laying it on its side next to the empty glasses.

And now that Marcus was taken care of – on to the real business. His room was a mess, so she began to dig through piles of parchment and folders without too much care for putting it back in the exact place. Scribbled notes that made no sense, information on past meetings, names she already knew – nothing fit what she sought, what she knew he had. When the desk had been thoroughly searched, she turned to the wardrobe, then the bedside table. Nothing. Shit.

Clicking her tongue, she turned in a circle. Perhaps he wasn't quite as thick as she thought. But there was no way she was leaving empty-handed. Quietly leaving the room, she made sure the hall was empty before moving to the next door. A revealing spell and an unlocking charm later, she was inside, but it proved to be disused. Onto the next. It was in the third room, immaculate but full, that she hit jackpot.

"Bingo," she murmured, flipping through a folder. On surface it appeared to be just what she needed, and she was willing to be more was encrypted within. She pointed her wand at it to make a replica, intending to leave the copy exactly in the place she found it, not one centimeter out of place.

And that was when everything went wrong.

Some sort of blaring siren began to wail while at the same time replica after replica dropped to the floor, threatening to drown her in olive green folders. It didn't take a genius to realize the normal method of exiting the building was now a very bad idea, so she began to slog her way to the window.

A howl of rage at the door didn't make her stop, but it did make her look over her shoulder. A thoroughly bewildered yet angry Marcus stood in the doorway clad only in his underwear, still reeling from his drugged system.

"Sorry, sweets!" she yelled over the noise of the alarm, sending him flying backward with a flick of her wand. "It's just not going to work out."

She had just turned to face the window when someone shouted at her, deeper than Marcus. Tonks barely had time to pivot before a curse was in her face, blocked only at the last second, leaving her pressed against the glass. A burly man barreled toward her, his face contorted with anger. She dropped to one knee, disarming him, but he didn't stop his charge.

With only a split second to act, she pointed her wand at the still-multiplying mass of folders and yelled, "_Confringo_!"

Whether it was the blast or his original intention, the Death Eater crashed into Tonks, and both burst through the window, tumbling to the ground below.

**oOo**

After casting a silencing charm on his wooden leg, Moody stumped in double-time toward the door in front of which Sturgis stood. Damn leg could be a right nuisance at times, slowed him down and made a racket to boot.

He stopped at the foot of the steps leading up to the terraced house. Sturgis needed to draw Yaxley out of the house proper in order to bypass the wards; by the sound of it, he was doing just that. They had fallen into some sort of argument, and Moody heard Yaxley spit the words "punk kid."

A rustle to his left evidenced Hestia taking her position. Unfortunately it was audible to Yaxley as well, who glanced sharply where she stood under Moody's spare invisibility cloak. His hand went into his pocket, and Moody began to raise his wand.

Yaxley turned and tried to shut the door, but Sturgis put a hand on it. Quick as a flash, Yaxley spun, his fist darting out before Sturgis could react. Sturgis tumbled down the stairs, blood dripping from his nose when he flung up his head and snarled a taunt at the Death Eater.

_Come on, you pillock_, Moody urged the Death Eater. _Step out the bloody door_. Yaxley stared at Sturgis, whom he thought to be a young Muggle man with an attitude and a smart mouth, like he was something scraped off the bottom of his shoe. Moody had seen this superior attitude become the downfall of many a Death Eater in his time, and he hoped to add to the list. Drawing his wand, Yaxley took one step forward –

– And two jets of light lit up the sky, colliding with Sturgis in the middle. He flew into the air, dropping with a sickening crunch of some bone (or bones) in the street. There was no doubt in Moody's mind where the second spell came from. _That bloody buggering fool_. Whipping off his cloak, he sent an _incarcerous_ jinx at Yaxley, who parried, eyes widening in recognition. His lip curled in a snarl, he dashed down the steps. Moody had him engaged before reaching the street, and the duel was on.

There was a reason Yaxley was their target. He was intelligent, talented, and cunning, a match for Moody, who gave no quarter and did not demand any in return. Fighting him required all of Moody's attention, and he gave it gladly, trusting Hestia to get injured Sturgis to safety. She, unlike Amos Diggory, was experienced, knowing exactly what (and what not) to do without having to be told.

The very small part of Moody's brain that wasn't occupied with fighting – and it was small indeed, for as much as Moody himself was uncommonly talented, as was his opponent – cursed Diggory again. No chance the Muggles wouldn't notice, and if Yaxley had companions inside his house …

They fought their way into an alley, matching curse for curse, shield for shield. While Moody did his best to divert spells harmlessly if he couldn't return them to their source, Yaxley was under no such compunctions, and one could follow the trail of destruction. The experience of decades of fighting flowed between the two combatants with the most deadliest of beauty. Moody knew this would be his last war; he would probably be killed before the end, and all he cared was taking down as many of the enemy with him as he could.

Backing as rapidly as a man with a wooden leg could, he flourished a whip out of his wand, intent on yanking Yaxley off his feet. His opponent responded in kind and when the whips entangled, both dropped the spells, unwilling to risk losing their wands. Moody then blew up a section of the brick wall Yaxley ran alongside, peppering him with shrapnel and immediately pressing his advantage. Now Moody was on the offensive, directing the attack with the dancing rhythms of combat – curse and curse and curse and shield, countercurse, dodge and attack and parry.

They slashed at the same time. Blood splattered from Yaxley's torn robes, but Moody barely had time to see it as his world was turned upside down, his balance yanked from him. Flat on his back, he saw half of his wooden leg spiral through the air, sliced off as cleanly as a knife through butter.

On instinct he rolled, a jet of light gouging the ground inches from his arm. So he couldn't stand. No matter, he still had his wand. No longer paying any mind to his own defense, he fired a barrage of curses and hexes. By the time the air cleared Yaxley was bleeding in a dozen places, his own leg incapacitated. Moody batted away a spell as effortlessly as if it were a fly, with grudging admiration for the determined caster, and raised his wand for the final, incapacitating blow.

Then he was blinded by a flash of green.

**oOo**

"Dora!"

Tonks blinked, groaning. Her back, her bum, her legs – her entire rear half felt like she'd been pricked by a hundred tiny knives. Surprisingly, her neck wasn't broken, which was normally what one expected when falling three stories.

The heavy body on top of her shuddered with a flash of red. Thundering footsteps approached. "Dora!" her father shouted again.

"I'm alright, I'm alright," she gasped out. From the pain in her back, that wasn't entirely true, but she was alive and kicking.

The footsteps came to a nearby halt, three pairs of them by her estimation. "Don't worry, I've stunned him," said Remus' voice.

"That wasn't necessary." With a groan, she heaved the dead weight of the Death Eater off her own body, allowing the others to see the knife sticking out of the dark red stain on his chest. "Lost my wand when he hit me, but that's why I always have a secondary option." Even she couldn't explain how she'd managed to pull the knife out of the sheath on her thigh while they fell to the ground. "Who slowed us down?"

"That was me," said Remus, offering her a hand up.

"Thanks, mate." Tonks resisted the urge to feel the wounds on her back, not keen on sticking shards of glass in her hand, too.

"Sweetheart, you're hurt."

"Flesh wounds, Dad. I don't suppose anyone will summon my wand for me before we get killed?"

"_Accio_ Nymphadora's wand!" cast Ted.

A moment later a thin strip of wood flew toward them. Tonks caught it easily, shaking the feeling of being naked and vulnerable once her wand was back in her hand.

"Now that we're all caught up, shall we leave? I don't expect they'll have missed this," said Burke, who'd been standing off to one side.

"Yes, let's. I got what I wanted and covered my tracks."

The four set off for the back alley, where they could avoid meeting anyone until they reached an apparition point. Tonks went over the mission as she jogged, lingering adrenaline allowing her to ignore the pain, her Auror training kicking in as she mentally composed an after-action review. Her disguise was flawless; there was no way Marcus could connect her with her real identity. She had destroyed the proliferating files so they couldn't see what she took, and the one –

"Hey!"

About to round a corner, she spun, automatically dropping into a fighting stance and summoning curses. She had only enough time to let her eyes fall on a pursuer when he shrieked, holding his hands to his stomach to catch his exposed organs before dropping to the ground.

Burke, behind her, withdrew the wand that he brandished like a sword, and she instantly knew what happened. "What did you do that for?" she hissed.

"To stop him from chasing us," he replied dryly, unconcerned with the life he had just taken.

"Then you stun him! I don't know what it was like in Timbuktu or wherever the hell you came from, but we don't kill people unless it's absolutely necessary. He could have been an innocent."

"Spare me your platitudes. Why would he chase us if he was an innocent bar patron? You can tell yourself whatever you like to soothe your conscience, but you and I are no different tonight. The sooner you accept you're a killer, the more efficient you become."

"He caught me! I had no wand and no other choice!" she began heatedly, her ears ringing.

In her periphery she saw her father advance. "Don't speak to my daughter like that."

"We can discuss this later." Remus' calm voice, ever the mediator, rose over the group. "And we will. But we can't change anything now, and if we're caught, this will all be for moot. Let's go."

Tonks couldn't even look at Burke as they resumed their escape. The bastard.

_The sooner you accept you're a –_

**oOo**

Only her own stubborn pride kept Tonks from crying out with relief when she appeared in her parents' garden. The twist of apparition had nearly pushed her past her breaking point with the stabbing pains in her back.

"Hold it."

Tonks remained still, although she didn't lower her own wand.

Hestia walked out of the shadows, her wand aimed squarely at Tonks' chest. "What's the first thing you ever said to me?"

Tonks grinned in memory of that early Order meeting. "I'm so sorry, because I had just done what?"

"Tripped down the stairs and knocked me over. Hello, Tonks. Mission go well?"

"In the end. And yours? You're back early."

Hestia grimaced. "Not so well. Sturgis was hurt; your mum is tending to him now. We had to leave Mad-Eye and Amos to it. Kingsley and Edmund returned a little while ago. They said it went well, but the twins stayed behind to distract the Death Eaters."

"What? He left the twins?"

Ignoring her injuries again, Tonks picked up the pace as she headed inside, leaving Hestia to check the rest of her group when they arrived.

"Kingsley? Kingsley!"

He and Edmund were seated at the kitchen table with large mugs of tea. "Tonks? What's going on?"

"Hestia said you left the twins. Why would you do that?"

"They made that decision," Edmund spoke up. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, girlie. They'll be back soon."

She rounded on him. "Girlie? Call me that one time."

"Tonks, calm down," Kingsley said firmly. "They're grown adults doing what the mission required, same as you or I. If anyone can give Death Eaters the slip, it's those two." He patted her back in what was meant to be a reassuring manner, but she couldn't stop a yelp the moment his hand touched her. "What the – turn around. Merlin, Tonks, is that glass?"

"I went out a window the wrong way. I'll be fine. Please don't call my –"

"Andromeda!"

"– mother, damn you."

Andromeda made an instant appearance from parts unknown in the way that only a worried mother could, and, clucking over Tonks' dismissal of her bloodied rear half, she soon took charge.

"Why you thought it was a good idea to go walking around like this, I'll never know."

"There are more important things than a few scratches," Tonks said impatiently. Laying facedown starkers while her mother picked pieces of glass out of her bum was not her best moment, and it made her tetchy. "How's Sturgis?"

Andromeda sighed. "He'll live, but he's going to be out of commission for a while. I had to guess at what struck him, and it was touch and go for a bit. By rights he needs to be in St. Mungo's; they have more resources than I, but Hestia convinced me not to take him."

"She was right. St. Mungo's may not be under Ministry control, but you can bet there are people there who would sell us out, both to Voldemort and to the Ministry." Andromeda continued her ministrations without comment, and Tonks twisted awkwardly, grabbing her hand. "Mum. I know what it feels like, but we're doing the right thing. You know that, yeah?"

"Of course I do. Now be still."

"Ow! That hurt."

"Such a drama queen," Andromeda scolded. "You drank an entire goblet of pain potion. You can't feel a thing."

"See how you feel when you have a shard of glass shoved up your –"

"Nymphadora!"

"Mother!"

"Dromeda!"

This unexpected shout, from outside the room, startled both mother and daughter until Ted walked in. "Dromeda, Alastor is back, and –"

"Dad?" Tonks said conversationally. "I don't think you want to see this."

"What? Oh! Good heavens!" He backed away, hand over his eyes, crashing into the door. "My apologies, sweetheart. I'll leave you ladies to it."

Andromeda and Tonks shared an amused glance before breaking into giggles.

Once healed, Tonks was all but back to fighting strength, although she would be sleeping on her stomach for a few days. She walked, slightly stiffly, into the sitting room to find her mentor in the process of treating Amos Diggory to a dressing-down that brought back some not-so-fond memories of her training.

"He was a Death Eater!" Amos shouted with a crazed look in his eyes. "They all deserve to die!"

"I don't care what he deserves, he was a much better source of information than a meaningless death," Mad-Eye growled. "This is not an outlet for some personal vendetta of yours, Diggory. You deviate from the plan one more time, and you can very well … Tonks, what's that bloody annoying phrase you use all the time?"

"Bugger off!" she supplied helpfully.

He nodded. "There you go. And furthermore, while Voldemort – oh, don't be a pansy, if you can fight him, you can say his name – while he has no loyalty toward his followers, he will not take the blatant murder of one of his inner circle in stride."

"Bloody hell," Tonks broke in. "You killed Yaxley?"

Kingsley stood, clearing his throat. It required little effort for his voice to penetrate any and all conversations. "Since we've all returned, shall we discuss our missions?"

Tonks sent him a dark look. "We've not all returned. How could you leave the twins behind?"

"I didn't leave them behind. We separated while they fulfilled their part of the mission. You have to trust them."

"We never leave anyone behind!" she shot back.

"Sit down and shut up, Nymphadora," Mad-Eye ordered.

And she did, obeying him in a manner she would no other.

Tonks went last, and she threw the folder on the table in front of her without comment when she finished her narrative, refusing to meet her mother's eyes that she knew without looking to be concerned. So she'd pulled a concealed blade and managed to twist it between herself and her attacker as they fell. So he'd landed directly on it. So that was … that, and nothing more.

Kingsley retrieved the folder. "I suggest we all get some rest and convene a meeting in a few days to discuss tonight's events. By and large, our missions appear to have been somewhat successful, even with the unexpected events."

"Then where are the twins?" Tonks asked to a silent room.

Burke was the first to rise. "I expect you'll send notice of the next meeting," he told no one in particular. "Auror Tonks, a word?" She followed him to the foyer. "I sent my condolences about your partner along with Mr. Potter, but I don't suppose he shared them."

"No, he didn't, but thanks."

"I didn't expect him to."

"Yeah … wait. When did you see Harry? Burke, answer me!" For he was already slipping out the door.

She pondered giving chase but gave up before she started. Burke would give answers only on his own terms, and if he had wanted to tell her, he already would have. She rubbed her temples. _Harry, what did you get yourself into now?_

An hour passed, then two. Refusing to leave until the twins returned, and debating on whether to indulge her growing desire to go find them, Tonks occupied herself with everything from giving Jabba a bath (as if she didn't have enough scratches on her already) to cleaning out her old closet to making a burned batch of biscuits.

Ted found her in the back garden, staring at the stars. "Making a wish?"

"I'd be more productive trying to learn how to fly by jumping off the roof."

"You already did that once, when you were eight," he remarked. "If I hadn't caught you, you would have broken your neck."

"I probably would have done it again if you hadn't bought me a broom."

"You always were a persistent child." Not receiving a response, he nudged her. "And jolly. What happened to my joyful little girl?"

"She grew up, got involved in a war, and killed people," she returned bluntly.

"Dora." She spun away from his touch, stalking back to the house. "Nymphadora Andromeda Tonks."

The ironclad parental command in his voice worked nearly as well at almost twenty-three as it did at eight, and she found herself turning reluctantly. "Yes?"

"Come back here." When she was within reach, he placed a hand on either shoulder before lifting her chin, gazing at her with eyes as light in their blue as her mother's were dark in their brown. "I know you lost your best friend, and it's something you'll never truly get over. I know you've had to do things you don't enjoy. I know you've had a rough time lately. And, sweetheart, I know there is more weighing on you than all of this."

"Dad …"

"It's okay, you're a grown woman, you don't have to share everything with your old man. But I want you to find someone to talk to or a way to let it out, because this person standing in front of me, the woman I've seen lately, is not the daughter I raised. You came out of the womb ready to take the world by storm with a smile on your face, and I'll be damned if I let you lose that. Do you understand me?"

Suddenly struck by an enormous lump in her throat, she managed a murmur of, "Yes, sir."

"Okay. Now go back inside, hug your mother because she can't sleep for worrying about you, and remember that you're Dora Tonks and you're stronger than this. You can be happy – it's _okay_ to be happy – you just have to remember how."

Ted held his arms open, and Tonks fell into his embrace, grateful beyond words for her father. It amazed her that he always knew what to say. After a kiss on the cheek and a whispered, "Thank you, Dad," she returned inside to give the same to her mother.

The house was abuzz. Curious, it took her a moment after entering the living room to realize that two identical, stocky redheads stood in the doorway, both grinning yet grimy.

"Fred! George! Where have you been?"

"That's all you can say?" George asked. "Where have you been, just like our mother. Not even a good to see you."

"I do believe you promised us a reward upon safe arrival." Fred winked and tapped his cheek.

So relieved they were alive and well, Tonks bypassed their cheeks and gave each a kiss square on the mouth, earning a wolf whistle from Hestia.

"Blimey, Fred, I think we'll have to volunteer for more missions with Tonks," George said, giving her a cheeky wink.

"Not to ruin the moment, but I expect we'd all like to know what happened," Kingsley prompted.

"Oh, the Death Eaters were no match for us, were they, George?" Fred said airily.

"Not in the slightest," his twin agreed. "It would have been all sunshine and daisies except we were so busy with them we missed one of the employees, who found the owner in the back."

"And they aren't as thick as they look, Death Eaters, not all of them, because they cottoned on quickly. Long story short, they reacted badly and started questioning everyone inside. We tried to slip away, but they caught us and ended up catching the place on fire while dueling. Thankfully the rest of the shoppers managed to escape."

George shook his head. "I don't know what the storekeeper had, but when the fire reached the back –"

"Boom," supplied Fred.

"Fred and I had gotten separated, and I couldn't leave without him, could I? Turned out _someone_ got a little close to the blast and got himself knocked out cold." George shook his head at Fred. "What would you do without me, Freddie?"

"Keep all the profits," Fred quipped. He rubbed his head. "Bit of a bump on the noggin, but I'm as handsome and smart as ever. No, Mrs. Tonks, I'm fine, I am."

Andromeda, naturally, ignored his protests and insisted on an examination. Tonks, busy laughing at someone else getting the full work-up for once, nearly missed George's last comment.

"And I'm sorry, Kingsley, but the owner was caught in the blast. There's no way he made it."

At that she stepped back from the rest of the group, leaning against a window. All three missions had taken a deadly turn, and she wondered just how long their luck would hold out.

Moody stumped up beside her, leaning on a crutch due to his broken fake leg. "Alright, Tonks?"

"Mmm-hmm. How's the leg?"

"You think you're as funny as ever, don't you?"

"Rather."

"Keep laughing. Even on one leg I could still wipe the floor with you. In fact, it hasn't been that long since I did, many times."

She let out a short bark of a laugh. "Bring it, old man."

"Overconfident little tart." He paused before clearing his throat and continuing gruffly. "You did well tonight. You didn't get yourself killed and brought your team back. Of course, I'd expect nothing less after you dogged my every move for two years. I couldn't take a piss without stepping on your robes."

"Thanks for that mental image," she said dryly.

He glanced at her with his real eye, his magical one rolling into the back of his head. "That's it? I've never known you not to waste my time preening after I gave you a compliment."

Tonks let out a slow sigh, letting her gaze sweep over the people assembled in her parents' house. "Four deaths tonight, three by our own hands, and two of our own injured, not counting your leg. And me, I suppose. Mad-Eye, I can't help but wonder what the cost of this will be in the end."

**oOo**

Tonks trudged through Hogwarts late that night, knackered after her long and stressful evening, barely noticing the occasional patrolling prefect or teacher and walking right through the Fat Friar. As much as she wanted to stay with the others, she hated to be away from her official assignment for too long. Giving the password to her quarters, she briefly entertained the thought of someone waiting for her with a warm drink, a warm blanket, and even warmer arms.

Of course, as always, her room was empty. Because that was what she had intended. That's what she requested. That's what she needed. That's what she wanted.

Wasn't it?


	37. Dream

**Dream**

April continued to push Harry to his limits. Even his triumphant euphoria over Malfoy's incarceration couldn't lift him out of the fatigue caused by the incessant long days and late nights, and so it was a very sleepy Harry who shuffled down to a late breakfast one Sunday, blinking over a rasher of bacon and wondering what that awful screeching noise was.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, snatching his hand back after a barn owl that appeared out of nowhere pecked it. "Ruddy bird. What'd you do that for?"

"It's been in front of you for at least a minute, Harry," explained Neville.

Oh. That explained the screeching. Harry took the envelope from the owl's leg and tossed it a small sausage. Noting the Ministry seal, he tucked the envelope in his pocket, assuming it was something else on which Sanjay wanted to stamp his name. Next to him Hermione harrumphed into her cereal, but he ignored her. The one upside of constant weariness was that he'd become particularly good at ignoring things.

After breakfast he read the letter alone as he trudged up the Grand Staircase. It might take away from the ambience of the castle, but sometimes he thought it wouldn't hurt Hogwarts to install a few lifts. Not that he'd ever mention that idea aloud – some of the older portraits might have fallen apart, overcome with blasphemy.

As he expected, the busy Ministry once again wanted to use the name of Potter to push through new legislation. And – this was interesting – Sanjay wanted to meet this time, would in fact be waiting for Harry in Professor McGonagall's office at half past noon that day. He shrugged to himself as he continued walking, wondering how thin McGonagall's lips had been pressed at that request.

And so after lunch Harry found the impeccably dressed young politician waiting in McGonagall's office.

"Harry! How are you?" Sanjay exclaimed, shaking Harry's hand with vigor.

"Fine."

"Splendid, absolutely splendid. Term's coming to an end, isn't it? That works wonderfully; perhaps we can get you in another press conference. They like a face to go with the name, you know, and a handsome young one at that doesn't hurt. Now then, let's get down to business, shall we?"

Harry leaned against a chair. As always, Sanjay talked a mile a minute, and trying to keep up made Harry's head spin.

Sanjay set his briefcase on McGonagall's desk. "I'm sure you heard about the bit of violent behavior recently." He clicked his tongue without waiting for a confirmation. In fact, between Mad-Eye and Tonks, Harry knew quite a lot about it, far more than Sanjay. He amused himself imagining the look on Sanjay's dark face if he knew the extent of Harry's involvement. "Nasty business, Harry, nasty business. When we begin fighting amongst ourselves is when the enemy emerges victorious. Remember that. The Minister grows concerned that certain unsavory characters in our society may try to take advantage of the present unrest –"

"It's a bit more than unrest, don't you think?" Harry interrupted. "People have been missing and dying for two years."

Sanjay didn't miss a beat. "You're absolutely right, Harry. Wrong choice of word on my part. As I was saying, the Minister believes some people will attempt to exploit the current situation to their advantage, which of course is undesirable and will only hurt our cause by diverting resources. To that end, we wish to create a sort of … registration, if you will, enabling us to keep closer tabs on those most likely to cause trouble. Known criminals, those with –"

"Known criminals?" Harry repeated with a fair amount of derision. "If there are known criminals, why don't you arrest them?"

"Arrest them?" Sanjay said with his own share of derision. "No, Harry, 'known criminals' is simply a phrase those in law enforcement use to refer to someone with a record, particularly repeat offenders. Petty thieves and the like. This is not Fudge's reign any longer. Minister Scrimgeour is dedicated to impartiality, as you saw in your own trial, or, I'm sure, heard about with regards to your classmate, Draco Malfoy."

Again Harry knew far more of which Sanjay spoke than Sanjay himself. Recalling that former Ministry darling Umbridge as well as Malfoy sat in Azkaban at that moment, he admitted that thus far Scrimgeour had proved himself to be a far more proactive and strict leader than the ineffective Fudge.

"That being said, the Minister had a long career in the DMLE before taking office, and he knows that in times like these, those who have broken the law in the past or skirted alongside it may well become tempted to do it again. Magical Law Enforcement patrols report that looting and burglary are on the rise, occasionally leading to minor assaults. Focusing on the bigger picture, that is to say, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, does not mean we can afford to let smaller matters slide. Do you understand, Harry?"

"Yeah, I guess so. When you say registration, what do you mean?"

"Merely a list, of sorts, of those that we need to keep an eye on, as I said. Known criminals, those with dealings in the dark arts, family members of acknowledged Death –"

"No," Harry said firmly. Faces – Sirius, Andromeda, Eric – flashed in front of him. "No one simply because they're related to a Death Eater. You can't judge someone just by who they're related to. That's not fair or right."

Sanjay nodded. "Very well."

"And nothing about blood either," added Harry, realizing how easily this proposition could take a bad turn. "Muggleborn, half-blood, pureblood – none of that matters, either. Got it?"

Sanjay raised a hand. "You have my word, Harry. You feel strongly about this, don't you?"

Lifting his head, Harry looked him straight on. "Yes, I do."

"That's good. Strong opinions are indicative of a strong character. And as it so happens, it was never on anyone's agenda to bring blood status into this." He clapped his hands briskly. "So! We're in agreement, then?"

Harry stood, looking at the bookcase behind McGonagall's desk without seeing it. On the one hand, the Ministry ought to focus its attention on Voldemort. But on the other, what started as small matters here and there could turn into a very large problem very quickly, and Voldemort could turn the ensuing Ministry distraction to his advantage. Harry ran his fingers through his hair. He wasn't cut out for politics.

"Sure," he finally said, ignoring the churn of uncertainty in his belly. He'd agreed to this harsher course months ago. "What do I need to do?"

Sanjay flourished a scroll of parchment and a quill out of his briefcase so quickly he might as well have conjured them. "Just sign there at the bottom, as you did last time, and hopefully you'll hear of our success shortly." Harry scrawled his name, and Sanjay whipped them away, offering his hand in place. "A pleasure as always, Harry. Good day to you."

"Yeah, you, too."

Left alone in McGonagall's office, Harry sat down for a moment. Despite his misgivings, he wasn't doing so badly on his own. He was helping the Ministry against a common enemy, he'd found someone to help him become stronger, and even his marks were higher. Not terrible for a sixteen-year-old orphan with terrible eyesight and knobby knees.

**oOo**

_Harry hurried through the tunnel that ran from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack. He was going to be late, and Burke tolerated tardiness as much as any Hogwarts teacher. That is to say, not at all._

"_I'm sorry!" he burst out the instant he entered the room. "I was –" He stopped. Why was he late? He had no idea what he'd been doing before he was in the tunnel._

"_Never mind," said Burke brusquely. "Let us begin."_

_They were using wands now, and again Harry didn't remember when that happened, but he supposed he was so tired lately he had simply forgotten._

_Their duel was nothing short of vicious. Harry was half convinced that Burke was truly trying to kill him, as time after time he only just missed a thrust or slash that would have split him wide open. And then came a spell Harry didn't miss, leaving him bleeding from hip to neck, and half became full._

_Though wounded, he didn't hurt, and he began to hurl spells back at Burke with increasing anger. What was the man playing at? Fueled by fury, he drove the older man back across the room, wounding him unrepentantly. Both were limping and dripping blood by the time Harry disarmed him, leaving Burke defenseless on the floor, back against the wall._

"_What are you going to do now, Harry?" he asked. "Kill me?"_

_Of course not, Harry began to say, but he stopped himself. The voice was not the graveled growl to which he'd grown accustomed. It was, however, an equally familiar voice, an unhurried sibilant hiss._

"_You can't kill me, Harry."_

_Harry blinked, shaking his head. Burke was gone; in his place was a tall skeleton of a man. Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort._

_If he was worried about being helpless at the end of Harry's wand, it didn't show. "You know my secret. I can't be killed."_

_So he knew Harry was on to the Horcruxes. So be it. "Yes, you can." He gripped his wand tighter, straightening his aim. "In the end, you'll be just as mortal as anyone else."_

_Voldemort smiled, cold and arrogant. He tilted his head. "But can you kill me? I think not, Harry. You can't kill anyone, can you?"_

"_Of course not."_

_Harry spun around. Peter Pettigrew stood behind an armchair as if he'd been there all along. His attention on his master, he bowed his head obsequiously. "The Potter boy had the chance to kill me three years ago. Padfoot was willing, and Moony, too."_

"_It's your fault they died!" Harry yelled. He almost spun around but thought better of it, stepping back until he could see both his enemies. He looked from one to the other. "You betrayed them, and he killed them."_

"_And here you have us both at your mercy," sneered Voldemort. "The two people you hold responsible for the mess that is your life. Yet there you stand, still unable to kill."_

"_Yes, I can!" Harry snarled, hating the petulance of his voice in this very serious and important moment. "I have to."_

"_You certainly do."_

_Voldemort was standing now, a wand that came out of nowhere directed at Harry's heart. Wormtail held a wand as well, this pointed at the head of Tonks, who was standing in front of him, the chair having disappeared. She was uncharacteristically helpless, frightened, silent, speaking only with her eyes. Gray as a cloudy sky, they begged._

"_Which is it, Harry? The girl or the enemy?"_

_Time was of the essence, but Harry was slow as he moved his gaze back and forth. He could kill Voldemort, he could end this now, but if he did, Wormtail would kill Tonks. If he killed Wormtail, Voldemort would kill him. The girl or the enemy, the other enemy or himself. The girl or the –_

_A sharp cry punctured his debate. Tonks was on her knees now, a thin line of red disfiguring the throat Harry had pressed his lips to many times. It was shallow, but the warning was clear. And then, as he watched, she cried out again, holding one hand over the spread of dark crimson across her abdomen. Wormtail didn't move a muscle, yet the longer Harry looked on, the more injuries she received until finally she lay on the floor, crying and pleading for him to help her._

"_Stop it!" he shouted, spinning around to face Voldemort again, his decision made._

_But Voldemort wasn't there – or was he? Harry stared into a mirror. His eyes narrowed and turned red, the fingers holding his wand lengthened, and his scar – his scar _spoke_ to him._

"You know the truth, Harry. You've known it since we spoke in the Chamber of Secrets."

'_There are strange likenesses between us, after all. Even you must have noticed.'_

"You've known it since I used you in the graveyard."

'_Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken.'_

"You've known it since we shared our mind and body."

'_You are a fool, Harry Potter, and you will lose everything.'_

_His scar seared, flashing red, and the voice wasn't merely in his head any longer. "You don't love me!" he burst out, pivoting again and advancing on the wounded Auror. "You never loved me, you played me, I was a moment's amusement and you threw me away like a child who outgrew her toys!"_

"_Harry, I –"_

"_Shut up," he spat. His scar throbbed with every word but anger flowed through his veins in place of blood, and he felt powerful, confident, immortal. "You don't love me, and you don't want me. And I don't need you."_

"_Harry, please!"_

_She raised one hand as if to shield herself from the oncoming storm, and he laughed, a maniacal sound he'd only ever heard from the mouth of another. He took aim._

Harry jerked awake as the green light flashed in his eyes, just as it used to during those long-ago dreams of his parents' deaths.

"Harry!" One of the red curtains surrounding his bed was jerked aside, and Neville's pudgy face peered in, concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Harry lied. His head – and scar – throbbed like something was attempting to escape his skull, and he felt ill, sweaty and clammy at the same time. "Must have had a dream or something. Sorry for waking you."

"No, I was up to get a drink of water and heard you yell something. Is it … you know, _him_?"

"No." This, unlike earlier, was the truth. Not only had Voldemort not attempted to utilize their connection since the disastrous occasion last June, the dream simply didn't have the same quality as previous visions. "Just a dream. You can go back to bed."

Neville hesitated. It annoyed Harry slightly, but he couldn't fault him. Harry's oft-disturbing dreams were common knowledge amongst all four of his dormmates. "Do you need anything? I have the new Marvin Miggs comic if you can't sleep."

"I'll be fine. I'm going to the loo. Thanks, Nev."

Harry waited until Neville returned to his own four-poster before slipping on trainers and grabbing his invisibility cloak from his trunk at the foot of his bed. He had somewhere to go, but it wasn't the loo.

His heart still raced, the dream as fresh and clear as if it had been a film. Despite its inconsistencies, it felt _real_. The worst thing was that he recognized what his dream-self felt. Was it merely a dream, or something worse, something deeper, a manifestation of what was hidden inside him? Too often he'd felt almost consumed by anger that was foreign yet strong.

He knocked on the door as quickly and loudly as he dared. Yes, it was the middle of the night, but at this moment he didn't care. It took over a minute for the door to open, but finally it did, wandlight illuminating her sleepy, confused face.

"Harry?" Tonks mumbled, blinking at him before focusing on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Please don't send me away. "

"I would never –" she began before thinking better of it. "Come in."

She had clearly been asleep. If the darkened room wasn't enough evidence, the rumpled bed, tousled hair, and oversized t-shirt she wore that he could see after she shot a jet of flame at the fireplace were.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but I had to come," he said.

She frowned, but he didn't sense any disapproval. "You look terrible," was all she said. "Sit."

She joined him on the sofa in front of the fire, conjuring a glass of water and giving him a pointed look until he drank it all. Then she brushed his fringe out of the way and held her palm to his forehead, her skin as warm as ever.

Or perhaps it was him this time. "You're burning up. Are you poorly?"

"No." She waited, fidgeting with the edge of her shirt, until he said, feeling rather stupid at the words emerging, "I had a dream."

"Bad one, I assume."

"Yeah. Suppose you're going to take the piss now?"

"Well … do you want me to give you a glass of warm milk, tuck you up, and check under your bed for monsters? Then no, I'm not. I've had my share of unsettling dreams, Harry. Nothing to be ashamed of. Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head slowly, not ready to put it into words. After refilling his water Tonks began to read a magazine that had been draped over the back of the sofa, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Now that he was here, calmer and somewhat relaxed, he felt foolish, and slightly angry to boot. Why was it that she could dump him, yet he still came running to her? Why did this connection still exist? How pathetic was he, letting an ex-girlfriend have such a hold over him that she invaded his dreams?

With his conflicted state surging to the forefront once again, Harry glanced at her magazine to distract himself. "Thinking of buying a new broom?"

"Yeah. I've had my Comet since my Quidditch days, and it's time to retire it. Plus I had Dad sell my car, so I've a bit of extra money."

"You sold your car? Why? You love it."

"Yeah, I do, but … it's kind of pointless for a witch to own a car, isn't it? I mean, unless you have small children, it's only for fun. And, well, my therapist suggested it." She cleared her throat, shifting and folding one leg under the other. "You see, my grandparents set up a small fund for each of us when we were born. It's supposed to be used for, um, what's the word? Some Muggles go when they finish school?"

"University?" he suggested.

She snapped her fingers. "That's it. It's supposed to help with university. But as I didn't go, it just sat there until I decided to buy a car one day, right after Nick and I broke up. Seemed like a good idea at the time, which was about as much thought as I put into anything those days. Mum and Dad were not happy. Anyway, my therapist said I was holding onto the past, or some shit like that. Also, it was kindly suggested to me by the DMLE that I not drive for a bit after Easter."

Her dry tone brought a grin to his face. "Yeah? How optional was that suggestion?"

"Nearly as optional as the extra duties I've volunteered for over the years. Now I have some gold, so I figured why not a new broomstick?"

Harry leaned closer to glance at _Which Broomstick?_, trying to ignore it when their arms brushed. "What do you plan on buying? Your own Firebolt?"

She groaned. "I wish," she said with longing. "I can't quite bring myself to spend that much in one place again. No, I've been thinking about the Comet 290, as I quite liked my 260, or perhaps the new Nimbus."

"I used to have a Nimbus 2000. It has great balance, and the new model is supposed to second only to the Firebolt in speed." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I know how you like to go fast."

"I do," she admitted, returning his smile.

They talked about broomsticks for a few minutes, debating the merits of each make, and Harry pondered how easily they fell back into banter, lacking only the flirtatious overtures that marked their earlier relationship.

"I heard you were supposed to give me a message from Burke," Tonks said nonchalantly during a lull in the conversation, flipping the page.

Caught off guard, Harry coughed. "Yeah, er, I meant to, but we haven't seen each other much lately."

"No, we haven't," she mused, continuing to read her magazine.

He waited. And waited some more. "That's it?"

"What is?"

"You're not going to bug me until I tell you when I saw Burke, or lecture me about knowing what I'm getting myself into?"

"No. Why, do you want that?"

Harry scoffed, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. "Not at all. It's only what I would expect from you."

She laughed, managing to roll her eyes at the same time. "Thanks for the compliment. No, no, it's fine. It's true, I expect. I've recently discovered I have –" she stressed the words with some degree of resignation, "Control issues. I've no right poking my nose in your business, so in the interest of friendship," again, stressing the word with a hint of resignation, "all I'll say is I hope you're being careful."

Harry made a noise in his throat and gazed at his fingers, one nail still torn from the last Quidditch practice, wondering how to tackle this new, introspective Tonks. Unfortunately that led to him thinking of actually tackling Tonks and other, more enjoyable activities that could lead to, not helped in the least by the pseudo-romantic fireside setting or her shorts that did nothing to cover the legs that went up to here. Rather panicked by the line his thoughts were taking, he went back to the topic. "She thinks you have control issues? I never, ever would have guessed that."

She glanced at him sharply with eyes too dark to make out the color, narrowing her brow before a grin tugged at one corner of her mouth. "Oh, is that so?"

"She must be a top-notch therapist to figure out that one." He continued recklessly, knowing he was risking treading in dangerous territory but enjoying the teasing too much to care. "I hope they're paying her extra to dive into your mind. It's a scary place."

To his relief, her exaggerated gasp of outrage was laced with amusement. "Me? What about you, you filthy hypocrite?"

"I imagine some of your thoughts would break a pensieve in half."

"Oi, watch it, Potter," she warned, eyes sparkling. "I can still kick your arse, Oh Chosen One."

"Hey, don't call me that."

"That's my line, innit?"

She pounced without warning, whacking him with a small pillow, which he grabbed, trying to yank it out of her grasp. She held fast, and both toppled backward with shouts of laughter, the Metamorphmagus landing squarely on top of Harry.

After a few nervous chuckles, they gazed at each other in silence. He could feel her heart thudding against his chest. Whatever yearnings he'd had to kiss her before their relationship paled in comparison to this moment. She was so very close, close enough that when a lock of aqua hair slipped out, it tickled his cheek. He tucked it behind her ear, green eyes never leaving those of what he now decided were a very dark midnight blue, and let his fingers linger on her cheek. Emotions traveled across her face as quickly as if she were morphing, but Harry never strayed from the singular gaze of longing.

"Harry …" Tonks whispered.

Whatever she intended to say after that was lost as he blinked and the spell was broken. They sat up, she tugging her knees to her chest and he placing his palms flat on his thighs. The snap of the flames provided the only sound for some time.

"I was in the Shrieking Shack," he began abruptly.

He spoke mechanically, her gaze never wavering from him even as she pivoted to face him, sitting cross-legged. He told her not because he necessarily wanted to, nor because it was itching to get off his chest, but because he knew, from that moment, that their story wasn't over, and she would always be the person to whom he turned.

"It was just a dream, you know that," she told him gently when he finished.

"I know, but my dreams – you don't understand, they're never just dreams. And he was there …"

"Okay. You're the only one who can tell for sure. Do you believe it was Voldemort manipulating you?"

Harry frowned at the fire. "No," he admitted.

"Then it really was _just_ a dream. Dreams never make sense. I once dreamt I woke up one morning with no fingers. Just palms."

He had to crack a smile at that. "Yeah?"

"Don't knock it. It was terrifying in its own way. And as for the rest," she went on in a brisk tone. "Firstly, we both know you aren't going to kill me. You've had plenty of opportunities. And secondly, if it came down to me or him –"

"I would never," he assured her.

"– I should bloody well hope you'd let me die," she finished. They stared at each other with consternation. "Harry, it's Voldemort. You get the chance, you off him, no matter what."

"And just leave you to die? That sounds like a piece of cake."

"If you're looking for something easy, you ought to get out of the business of war. Besides –" Her voice took on a chipper note. "In a likelihood, if that situation came up, I'd probably be dead already. So there you go, no worries."

"No worries," he deadpanned, raising his eyebrows.

"Exactly. And as for stressing out about killing someone – the moment you stop worrying about it is probably the moment you should. Got it?" Tonks picked at her fingernails, giving him a side-eyed glance. "Do you want to tell me what's really bothering you about that dream?"

There were times when the fact that she knew him so well wasn't so great. He struggled to put his churning emotions into words, speaking slowly. "When I have these dreams, or when I get angry or lose my temper, I feel like … I'm someone else. Last year I had the same feelings and I thought it was because Voldemort was in my head. I know he's not now, but sometimes I think … I don't know, after all we've gone through together, I have part of him inside me. Like I'm becoming him."

"Oh, Harry." Two words, simple enough, but heavy and loaded. She shuffled closer, kneeling awkwardly on the cushioned sofa, and took his head in her hands, pulling it up until they made eye contact. "Listen to me. Despite everything, I know you, and you are so _good_, it hurts. You've been through so much, and all you do is take a stronger stance against evil. You're nothing like him, and you never will be."

"How do you know?" he protested in spite of the warmth spreading through him. "How do you know that when this is all over, we'll be any better than those we fought against? What is the cost going to be?"

She sucked in a sharp breath, looking distinctly unsettled before giving her head a little shake. "Because like I said, I know you. You're amazing, and no one who holds this much light in his eyes could ever be anything else."

Hesitantly, as if debating with herself, Tonks leaned forward, very lightly and briefly pressing her lips to his temple, brushing across his scar. He closed his eyes.

Nothing more needed to be said – nothing more could be said after that – and all Harry knew was that one moment he was staring into the fire and the next his eyes fluttered open to reveal dying embers. The windows (fake, for her quarters were on the interior of the castle, but they were charmed to show the conditions outdoors, much like the ceiling of the Great Hall) were dark, so it was still night. The next second he realized that Tonks leaned against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder while his head rested on top of hers.

"Dora?" he whispered, gently nudging her. As much as he wanted to stay, wanted to pretend they were back as _they_, he still wasn't completely sure she – actually, either of them were ready for that yet, no matter what promise the last few hours held. All that had been said when she broke up with him remained unresolved.

"You can stay if you want, but I'm going to bed," she mumbled in a drowsy voice.

"No, I need to go back. Want me to tuck you up, check for monsters?"

A soft chuckle reached his ears. "Monsters have nothing on me." She lifted her head, yawning. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you for listening to me."

"No problem." She bit her lip, rolling it between her teeth. "Harry, why did you come to me?"

_Because I dreamed about you? Because I'm still all in? Because you don't mind if I wake you?_ Nothing seemed appropriate to both convey what he wanted without breaching the shaky bit of trust they'd restored. "Because you're the person …" and he trailed off, not sure how to finish his sentence. Yet as he left it, it seemed like that was the sentence in its entirety.

Tonks nodded, swallowing. "I'm glad, you know, that we can still … talk_._"

"Me, too. Good night, Dora."

"Good night, Harry. No more dreams."

She shuffled for her bed while he headed for the door. _Oh, sod it all._ With his hand on the knob, he turned, clearing his throat. One leg under a thick blanket, she paused, giving him her attention. "I think we both know there's still something between us. If we have feelings for each other, why aren't we together?"

She immediately opened her mouth to respond, but naught came out. The longer nothing was said, the more it grew apparent there was no answer to that question.

**oOo**

Harry went down to breakfast the next day in a particularly good mood, the dream pushed to the back of his mind. That's all it was, after all – only a dream. The weather was picturesque, his Quidditch team had never looked better as the final approached, term was crawling to an end, he was progressing on all fronts, and Tonks still cared for him. Malfoy was in jail, and Harry nursed cautious hopes that he might end this school year without another attempt on his life. Two was a bit much as it was.

Over their bacon and eggs, Harry and Ron began teasing Neville about working with Susan in the last DA meeting.

"And she's smart, Susan is," said Harry. "I've never seen her have that much trouble with a spell."

"Did you show her how to work a wand, Nev?" Ron asked with the innocent expression of a tender first-year.

Seamus snorted eggs across the table, and amidst the withering glare with which Lavender was leveling Ron, Neville blanched. "It's not – we aren't – I would never –"

"Never say never," Dean advised. "You don't know what you're turning down."

Ron sniggered, now deliberately turning away from Lavender's piercing gaze. "Yeah, mate, it's like – OI!" He rounded on Dean. "What the bloody hell are you talking about? You dated my little sister!"

Harry waited for Ginny to throw an acidic remark at Ron, as she normally did whenever he acted big-brotherly protective about her, but instead she picked at the crust of her toast, looking as if she didn't particularly care.

Harry leaned toward her, speaking in a low voice under cover of the owls that had flooded the Great Hall in the morning mail delivery. "Alright, Ginny?"

Her brown eyes flicked toward Dean before she shrugged, giving Harry a wan smile. "Sure."

He offered a smile in return but was rather grateful when the graceful figure of Hedwig soared at him, her white feathers unmistakable among all the darker colors. He didn't know what to say to Ginny.

Removing the letter from her leg, he allowed Hedwig her selection of his breakfast while he stroked her head. After a bite of bacon and some pumpkin juice, she nipped Harry affectionately on his hand before flying off. He glanced at his letter, recognizing the sharp script of Remus Lupin. Interesting, he mused, wondering what his former professor –

"Holy cricket!" Hermione spat, hidden as usual behind the _Daily Prophet_. She lowered the paper and stared over it at Harry.

"What? _What_, Hermione? What's happened?"

"It's the Ministry. I hope you – no, wait, let's go. You don't want to read this here."

Without waiting for a response, she left with the paper, forcing Harry to follow, torn between irritation and curiosity tinged with anxiety. He didn't have to look to know that Ron did the same. As they left, their classmates gathered around Katie Bell, who also took the paper.

They were at the Grand Staircase when Hermione stopped, thrusting the paper at him. "Go on, it's easier if you read it yourself. I truly hope you didn't mean this."

He began to read the front-page article as quickly as he could. Yes, the Wizengamot had met to discuss Sanjay's legislation, and yes, Harry's name was mentioned. So what? He read on, and when the reporter finally summed up the sum total of the new law, his stomach dropped.

_All creatures categorized within the Being Division, to include humans, and of the age of majority will now be required to carry identification papers. Failure to provide papers when asked or any forgery or false information will result in a fine and prison time as determined by a committee. Identification will include name, age, affiliations, wand description, and identifying characteristics such as lycanthropy or Animagus form. Registration of the latter categories will be made available to the public through the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Persons to be of suspect loyalty, such as past Death Eater ties, a known criminal history, or werewolves, will be summoned before a Ministry tribunal._

Harry couldn't read any longer. He felt sick. He handed the paper to Ron, pointing out the summarizing paragraph, and gave Hermione a beseeching glance. "This wasn't what I was told, Hermione. You know I'd never support something like this. You know that."

"Of course I do." She bit her lip. "This is really bad, Harry. The Ministry is trying to turn us into some sort of police state, and your name is all over it."

"Blimey, mate," said Ron. "What do you suppose this tribunal is for?"

Remus' letter in his pocket suddenly weighed a ton. "I don't know. I can't imagine I want to know." Harry sat on a step, running his hands through his hair. "I've got to stop this. If they used my name to pass it, I can use it to take it back, right?"

Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance, and he knew without asking that neither had a good answer.

"Potter!"

A thoroughly furious Eric Rosier stormed out of the Great Hall, Daphne Greengrass on his heels. Harry stood, suddenly very aware of how much larger Eric was than himself.

"You – you –" Eric seethed through clenched teeth before rearing back and punching Harry in the eye. He reeled, only Ron keeping him from stumbling backward, but did nothing to protect himself. At that moment, glasses broken and pain searing through his nose, Harry felt he deserved it. "You –" the young werewolf spat again before turning and storming in the direction of the Slytherin dungeons.

Daphne stepped up and quite calmly slapped Harry across the formerly unharmed cheek. "You're an asshole," she said before spinning to follow her friend.

Harry sank back down to the stone steps. Wordlessly Hermione repaired his glasses, but he didn't care. Fury at the Wizengamot, Scrimgeour, Sanjay Bansal, the Ministry as a whole, and at himself surged through him. What had he done?


	38. Fallout

**Author's Note: **Some of you may have noticed that not only did I go longer than normal without updating, I also did not respond to reviews like I usually do. I apologize for that, as I feel if you can take the time to read my story & give me your thoughts, the least I can do is respond, even if it's a negative review. However, I have been extremely busy with both planned and unplanned events, & just writing took all the free time & energy I had. I did read all the reviews & am very thankful. If anyone had any questions I missed, please feel free to send me a PM. I intend to reply to reviews again from here on out. Anyway, without further rambling, here's a very long chapter.**  
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><p><span><strong>Fallout<strong>

"You can say I told you."

"I told you so."

"Tonks!"

"He said I could say it."

"That doesn't mean you have to," Hermione huffed.

Tonks rolled her eyes. "It didn't hurt him. Harry doesn't care what I say, do you, Harry?"

"No," he mumbled, barely listening to their conversation as he paced back and forth across the Viaduct in the bright sunshine.

This was awful. Terrible. Rotten. And whatever other synonyms he could come up with. He'd just outed a friend's secret, forcing that same friend as well as the only father figure he had left to answer questions from the government. He dreaded to think of the purpose of the tribunal. Umbridge had already seen to it that werewolves could barely find employment. What more could they do?

"I have to stop this," he said aloud.

Hermione seized that and ran with it, following his pacing. "That's exactly what you should do. Make it clear they went against your wishes and you don't support this at all. You could do another interview in the Quibbler, and we could start a letter-writing campaign – it's clearly going to be unpopular. How they think they can get away with this –"

"They already did," interjected Tonks. "It's a done deal. They're not going to rescind it if you change your mind."

"But if enough people protest, they'll be forced to," argued Hermione. "Politicians live and breathe by public opinion."

Tonks, who'd been reclining on the balustrade, sat up, swinging her legs down. "The public is scared, Hermione. I may have been a kid the last time Voldemort was in power, but I remember what it was like. You don't. People want a strong leader, and sadly some are more than willing to give up some of their rights to ensure that. Scrimgeour's very popular at the moment. Not to mention, this won't negatively affect the majority of the population. So they have to carry around a piece of paper. Big deal. Everyone's looking out for number one now."

Her hands on her hips, Hermione approached the Auror. "Why don't you care more? You do realize this will affect you more than most, being a Metamorphmagus." Tonks shrugged.

"She's right," Ron said. Harry, thinking he agreed with Hermione, received a surprise at his next words. "It's a terrible idea, Hermione. Harry's going to look like a giant prat if he starts whining about something he approved not a week ago. Sorry, mate."

"No, don't be," said Harry. He tilted his head toward the sun, closing his eyes and basking in the soothing warmth on his face. A refrain of _stupid, stupid, stupid_ echoed around his aching head. "I screwed up. I was stupid to trust the Ministry, but I did, and now I have to own up to my mistakes."

"I wondered when he would start this," Hermione said to Ron.

"I'm surprised it took this long," he replied.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, looking from one to the other.

Tonks spoke up. "I believe they're referencing your tendency to lay all the blame for anything bad on yourself. Now you're going to explain exactly why you think it's so."

"Well, I …" Harry faced the three, feeling trapped. Arms crossed, Ron stood near Hermione to one side. She gazed at Harry steadily. Some feet away Tonks still draped herself on the balustrade, one leg hanging languidly while she wore a knowing smirk. "Well, that's just – if I hadn't – they never –"

"It's not, you did, and they would."

Harry blinked. "How did you know what I was going to say?" Tonks' smirk broadened, and she lifted one shoulder in a subtle shrug. A tendril of amusement wound its way through the gloom fogging Harry's mind.

Hermione cleared her throat with a rather pointed look toward both of them. "The point is you hadn't any idea they would take it this far, so you can't say it's your fault."

"But they did," Harry argued. "With my name attached."

To his surprise Ron barked out a laugh. "Getting a big head, mate. I think you're overestimating your pull. The Ministry will do what it wants, and they would have found some other way to do it without you. Like Tonks said, it's already done."

"Harry, they played you, plain and simple," added Tonks.

"You would know," Ron muttered under his breath, although everyone heard clearly enough.

A hush fell over the group, broken only by the distant chirp of a bird, hopeful for the new spring. Harry stared at his friend, who avoided his gaze and scuffed his worn shoes. Hermione, too, stared at him, her brown eyes round. Tonks herself seemed unaffected, the slight flush in her cheeks as she studied her fingernails the only evidence she'd heard the slight.

Harry's immediate reaction was to defend her, to proclaim what happened between them was the business of no one else. But the words died in his throat, suddenly wondering why he was always rising to the defense of one who was willing to drop him by the wayside.

As it happened, Tonks was the one to speak first. "Since that's been taken care of," she began, leaving no clues as to what she referenced, "the only question remaining is where you go from here, Harry."

_No shit_, he thought to himself with some sense of dry humor. "You think I should fire back," he said to Hermione.

"You have to stand up to them."

"Ron, you think I shouldn't do a thing." Ron nodded. "And what do you think, Tonks?"

She turned the question over for a moment. "I think it's your life and your choice to get involved with the Ministry and your decision where you go from here. If it were me, I'd like to think I would take it in stride and move on, but chances are I would run my mouth and find myself out of a job. But I won't tell you what to do."

_Not any longer, huh?_ Harry nodded, resuming the pacing he didn't remember stopping. He spoke to the air, trusting everyone could hear him. "Ron's right. It's my mistake. If anyone asks me – and I expect the owls will be busy – I'll tell them how I feel, but that's it. Consider it a lesson learned – never trust bloody politicians, and read everything."

"Good on you." Tonks jumped off the balustrade, one trainer slipping when she landed before righting herself. "Must go, mates. Duty calls and all."

"Are you allowed back to work?" Harry asked.

She snorted. "Pfft. Beaky says I'm 'making progress toward honesty', but she won't tell me what that means. No, just my normal duties."

Ron, looking confused at the reference, spoke up. "Since Malfoy's gone, why do they still have you guarding Hogwarts?"

Harry answered, "Because Malfoy was proof Hogwarts is threatened."

Tonks held one finger to her nose, pointing at Harry. "Right you are, and so I'm off. Don't worry too much, Harry, this will blow over like anything else." She nudged him when she left, sharing a grin until their gazes passed.

Harry leaned over the balustrade, looking out at the Scottish landscape. Majestic and permanent, it had a calming effect. This wasn't the end of the world. It wasn't his first mistake, nor his worst. Nor the last, he suspected. Time to move on.

"Harry." Ron stood beside him.

"Yeah?"

"You shouldn't let her walk all over you."

Harry turned. "Who, Tonks? I don't."

"Then why was she the first person you thought of?" Ron let that hang for a beat. "You did the entire time you were together, and you still do. How come you act like nothing has changed when it has?"

"We're still friends," Harry said, a feeble defense.

"And who decided that? Who decided everything?"

Harry didn't think Ron expected an answer, and that was good, for the longer they went, the more he realized that while he had one, he didn't want to admit it.

**oOo**

As predicted, Harry was soon swamped with mail, the enclosed opinions varying wildly. He wrote a strongly worded letter to Sanjay (helped in large part by Hermione) revoking his partnership with the Ministry in no uncertain terms, and he also wrote to Remus. To his chagrin, Remus' letter on the day of the Ministry announcement was purely coincidental, making no mention of the new legislation, and his reply to Harry's letter was blameless.

_It is almost a relief that the Ministry's long-standing prejudice against werewolves is solidified, out in the open as opposed to occasionally hidden behind a facade of empty promises and carefully worded legislation by people such as Dolores Umbridge,_ Remus wrote,_ but I fear it will drive more and more into Fenrir Greyback's leadership and Voldemort's camp, making my task that much more difficult and dangerous._

Cue the guilt.

As it turned out, not unexpectedly, Eric remained the major reminder of what Harry continued to insist was his mistake. The Slytherin refused all Harry's attempts at apology and went out of his way to avoid him, culminating in Harry cornering him with the help of the Marauder's Map after dinner.

Hermione, who accompanied him while Ron and Lavender disappeared to what Harry assumed was their thorough investigation of Hogwarts' broom closets, shuffled uncomfortably in the cold corridor near the Slytherin dungeons. "Harry, I don't think this is –"

"There they are," he interrupted.

Eric, Daphne, and Tracey Davis rounded a corner, the girls laughing at something while Eric scowled. Tracey was the first to spot the Gryffindors.

"What are you doing so far from home, Granger?" she jeered. "Pulled your nose out of a book and found yourself lost?"

"Shut up, Tracey," Eric ordered. He nodded at Hermione as he passed, pointedly ignoring Harry. "Granger."

"Eric, wait," Hermione called reluctantly after Harry sent her a pleading look. "Please?"

He stopped, shoulders tensed, and waited for a moment before waving for the girls to go on. "What?"

"Come on, Eric," Harry said quickly. "I didn't know they were going to do this."

"Oh, you didn't _know_. That changes _everything_."

"You can't blame Harry for this. They would have done it without him."

Eric laughed harshly. "Don't you get it? Everyone is going to know about me now. They'll know I'm a – I'm a monster. I don't care what you meant – you're a part of it."

"You're not a monster," Harry and Hermione said at the same time.

"You don't know anything about it!" he snapped, a vein bulging in his neck. "You don't know what it's like, so quit trying and piss off."

He strode in the direction of the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory, hands clenching repeatedly. Hermione bit her lip.

"Just go, Harry. I'll talk to him. Go," she repeated firmly when he tried to protest.

Harry watched her run after Eric, laying a hand on his arm to halt his exit. He stopped, so there was that. Harry mused on their odd friendship as he trudged back to his own dormitory. What a strange pair, the Slytherin werewolf son of a Death Eater and the Gryffindor Muggleborn. However unlikely, Hermione seemed to have some sort of rapport with him, and perhaps she could get through to him where Harry couldn't.

However, when she returned, a good amount of time after Harry, she simply told him to give Eric space.

"By forcing the issue, you're making it into a bigger deal than it is," she advised. "Just let it go."

_Easy for her to say_, Harry thought petulantly, but it was good advice and so he resolved to try to do just that.

**oOo**

"Bansal."

Sanjay Bansal nearly jumped out of his suit, still impeccably pressed even after a very long day, as someone slipped inside the lift right before the doors closed.

"Auror Tonks," he greeted her as the lift began to move. "You startled me."

"Did I?"

She didn't seem inclined to offer any apologies, so Sanjay was rather offended, but he brushed it away. They knew each other only well enough to greet in public, after all. "It's quite alright, I'm sure. Aren't you on permanent assignment in Scotland?"

"Yes. I only came in to take care of my registration."

"Ah, that makes you one of the first. Well done! How did you find the process?"

"As painless as buying a wand." She flashed him a sour smile and waved a small crimson booklet in his direction. "According to the bloke who registered me, I quite possibly may be the only Ministry employee with dual classification."

"Dual?" he echoed, puzzled. "Class A for Ministry of Magic employee, naturally, plus your existing security clearance, but what … aha." The light bulb flashed when she raised one lime-colored eyebrow at him. "Class C, of course. Well, ah, you see, it's simply a formality. One can't expect special privileges simply because one works for the Ministry."

"Of course."

"Naturally, we trust our employees."

Tonks laughed. "That's the second dumbest thing I've heard all month."

"I beg your pardon?" Instead of responding she pulled her wand and aimed it at the control panel, making the lift stop with a lurch. "Now hang on a minute, you can't do that!"

"Strange, cos I just did." The Auror took a step closer. "Now let's talk about the dumbest thing I've heard all month. Want to guess what that is?" She waved her registration booklet again. "This is going to backfire on you so badly you'll wish you never pulled your head far enough out of Scrimgeour's arse to think of it."

Sanjay pulled himself up with a noise of outrage. "Auror Tonks, I must insist you –"

"Oh shut up, would you? I'm not here to complain about the registration. I go running my mouth too much and I'll be labeled as a subversive, get my employment terminated, and wind up under surveillance by my own former coworkers, who are not nearly as good as I am at that task, by the way. As it is, I'm probably on a list already."

Sanjay was glad for the dark tone of his skin, hoping his flush couldn't be seen. How did she know that? Her own fault for mixing in with that Order of the Phoenix lot last year.

"No, I'm here to talk about Harry Potter." She shook her head, letting a wry smile slip out. "I have to hand it to you, Bansal. You played him like a trumpet, earning his trust, letting him think he was doing something against Voldemort." Sanjay sputtered, and she rolled her eyes. "Grow up. It's just a name. Not even his real name – I mean, who would name a baby Voldemort? Anyway, my point is, you shouldn't have messed with Harry."

"Are you threatening me, Tonks?" Sanjay asked, not bothering to hide his scorn. He was Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic himself.

"Of course not. I'm not that daft. Think of this as merely a friendly warning. You took advantage of someone who was only trying to do good, and that will come back to bite you in your perfectly starched Y-fronts. It's karma, innit?"

"I did no such thing," he protested stiffly, straightening his tie. "Potter's a good chap and I mean him no ill will. It's certainly disagreeable he no longer wishes to support the Ministry in its efforts against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but one cannot let a falling out stand in the way of progress. I was always upfront with him, and it was his choice to work with us."

Leaning against one wall of the lift in an indolent pose Sanjay found as intolerable as anything she'd said, Tonks scoffed. "In order to become a lackey, did you have to go to some sort of school where you had self-righteous bullshit shoved down your throat so you can regurgitate it at will?"

"You must be one of the crassest people I've ever had to misfortune to encounter," he replied with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Thank you."

"That was _not_ a compliment."

"Of course it was."

"You are an infuriating creature," he snapped, irked out of his normal composure. "Why do you care about Harry Potter so much?"

She shrugged. "I've known Harry for years. His godfather was my cousin, you know. I'm – quite fond of him."

He thought she was going to say something else, and Sanjay glanced at her sharply.

She didn't notice his scrutiny. "It's not as if he'll get the opportunity to tell you off himself. Don't worry, we'll all fall into line like good sheep and get our registrations and wave them around anytime someone barks at us, but mark my words, Bansal, you'll get yours someday."

She restarted the lift, apparently finished with her rant. They rode in silence, and it wasn't until the doors opened again that Sanjay deigned to speak to her again.

"I'm surprised. I wouldn't have supposed Potter to be the vengeful type."

Already halfway out, Tonks turned. "Harry? He isn't." Then her lips curled in a rather unpleasant smile. "But I wasn't talking about him."

**oOo**

Try Harry did, but when he found himself in the Shrieking Shack late one night getting whacked repeatedly by Burke's wooden rapier, he suspected he wasn't trying hard enough.

"Pay. Attention. And. Focus. Boy!" Burke challenged, hitting him with each word. Harry lashed out subconsciously on the last, blocking Burke's thrust with his own sword. "Ah, there you go," Burke said with grudging approval, finally ceasing his attack and stepping back. "You can do it, I see, so why do you dither?"

Harry's head ached. His arms ached, his torso ached, his hands ached. _He_ ached. He stretched, rolling the sore muscles of his shoulder and back. "I have a lot on my mind."

"It must be very important to distract you from the task of staying alive." Burke's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"I'm sorry, okay? It's just – never mind. You don't care."

"No, I don't. The only thing I care about in this dingy room is teaching you what I know, and the only thing you should be concerned with in my presence is learning. That's it. I'm not here to be your friend or confidant or mentor. You begged me to work with you, so I am. Now focus and learn, damn it."

"Yes, sir," Harry retorted with no small amount of his own sarcasm.

If Burke's training hadn't been useful, Harry would have been more than happy to call an end to their sessions, for the elderly man was irascible and unpleasant company, but the fact remained that it _was_ useful. Between Burke and Dumbledore, Harry had begun to develop a more intuitive understanding of magic, aware of every single action and thought when he touched his wand.

He pulled the rapier up into a proper stance, waiting for Burke to copy. Focus. Focus focus focus. Burke and the sword, not Eric's understandable angst or how good Tonks looked in the tight trousers she wore yesterday or the seamless manner in which his Quidditch team flew together or Dennis Creevey disarming Luna – no. Focus.

For a moment Burke settled into a defensive position, but just as Harry struck he stepped aside and shook his head. "Your head is still somewhere else. And here I was thinking you were ready to return to wands. Okay, shut up and listen, boy, because I'm going to give you one chance. I am fully aware you are a teenager and as such require a certain amount of … what's the word … 'angst' to survive, and Merlin knows you have more than enough to get on with. Whatever it is, it stays out there." He pointed at the door. "If you half-arse your way through this, you'll half-arse it later when it matters, and then this entire venture would end up being a waste of my time. Time these creaky old bones would rather be in bed. I don't care if you got bitten by a werewolf on your way here, if your Auror girlie let you touch her tits for the first time –"

Harry coughed, almost choking. Now there was something he'd never expected to hear out of Burke's mouth.

"– or if the Dark Lord himself waits outside the door to strike you down, you give me all of your attention or I will walk away without one single guilty thought on my conscience. Understood, boy?"

Harry scowled. "I hate it when you call me that."

"Good. Channel that frustration and let's see if you're even remotely worth my time." Burke drew up his rapier, cocking it slightly. "You may leave after you've beaten me. I expect we'll be here all night."

Harry's mouth curled in a grim smile. He'd see about that. Use his frustration? He had plenty.

**oOo**

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Burke's advice helped. Harry woke up the next morning refreshed and ready to move on. Their duel the previous night had drained him of all his aggravation, and he was eager to start anew.

"Good morning!" he greeted Parvati as he sat next to her at the table for breakfast.

She raised her eyebrows. "Someone overdosed on his cheering charm this morning."

He laughed, nudging her playfully. "Am I not allowed to be in a good mood?"

"I wouldn't say not allowed, exactly." She sidestepped the question, exchanging an amused glance with Katie Bell as one passed jam to the other. "Simply … unexpected. I'm not complaining. It's – well, it looks good on you."

"Good. I'll try to keep it that way, then."

He grinned at her, and Parvati's smile widened.

His cheerful disposition continued for the rest of the day. McGonagall gave him ten points for first giving Ron a bushy mustache that rivaled Uncle Vernon's and then removing it, leaving Ron's face as smooth as a baby's, and Snape found nothing to quibble about in Harry's essay on lethifolds, instead glowering at him for having the gall to be right. By dinner he felt nothing could ruin the day, though he cautiously warned himself that was generally the moment when something did.

"Well done, everyone," he told his assembled Quidditch team after a brief practice. "I think that it's for today. We can't get any better than we are now."

"Quit, Harry, you're making us blush," quipped Demelza.

"Are you letting us go in time for dinner?" Jimmy asked with mock amazement. "Quick, run before he changes his mind!"

Harry laughed; they liked to tease him about his dictatorial ways, but he and Katie knew he was nothing compared to Oliver Wood.

Ron, Lavender, and Parvati had watched the practice from the stands and walked back with Harry. Several yards in front of them were Ginny, Ritchie, and Jimmy, and Ron gave the trio a long look before deciding they were harmless.

"Cho and a few other Ravenclaws came to watch you," he remarked to Harry, who shrugged.

"Good."

"Good? They're spying!"

"We've nothing to hide. I'm not Oliver with his squiggly diagrams nor Angelina with her trick plays. Let Cho see how good we are. Maybe she'll be intimidated."

"You used to go out with her, right?" Parvati asked.

He shrugged again. "For about five minutes, last year. We don't even talk now."

"Not at all?" Lavender raised her eyebrows. "You must not have liked her very much to begin with, then."

"I don't know. I fancied her enough, I suppose." Mystified, Harry glanced at Ron, who appeared just as confused, but then Lavender whispered in Ron's ear and he was soon otherwise occupied.

The couple slowed, heads bent intimately, until Harry and Parvati were walking by themselves. He looked back, struck by a pang of jealousy.

"Sorry about her," Parvati said out of nowhere. "I don't know why she said that."

"Yeah, that was weird," Harry admitted, drawing a smile. "There wasn't much between Cho and I, honestly. Ron and Hermione had more between them than we did, and they never even kissed."

"Oh." Parvati fell quiet, looking at her hands until they reached the castle. "Tell me the truth, Harry: does Ron still fancy Hermione?"

Out of respect, he took time to think about it instead of immediately denying it. "No, I think both of them have moved on. I honestly do. At one point I thought they were sure to get together, but I think that's passed."

"Good," Parvati said strongly before blushing. "I mean, I wouldn't have cared before if they dated, but now … Lavender really likes Ron, and she's my best friend. I don't want to see her hurt. That – yeah."

He had an inkling of what she abruptly cut off, and he searched for something to say in place of awkward silence. "Ron's my best mate, too. They seem to be working. And speaking of our best mates, where …?"

They were alone, the aforementioned couple having made a disappearance worthy of silent apparition. Parvati giggled. "Ron's such a hypocrite, always giving Ginny grief about Dean and running off with Lavender in the next moment to … you know."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "You're a good friend, you know that? Not just for caring about Lavender, but other people, too. Like forgiving me when I muck things up over and over."

"What?" She looked at him with brown eyes full of surprise. When had they stopped walking? "Harry, what do you mean?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "You really are. The Yule Ball, when we dated – I've taken advantage of you over and over, and you still seem to care for some reason. It's remarkable."

She was very close. "Of course I care about you, Harry."

"You do?"

So close. "And you've never taken advantage of me. I've always known exactly where I stand with you."

"You have?"

Mere inches. "And it's okay with me, it truly is."

The kiss wasn't entirely a surprise, given her increasing proximity, but the feeling behind it, the look she gave him after – nothing was like the shy girl he remembered from last fall. As she said, she knew how he felt, and she didn't care that it didn't match with her own feelings. She wanted him.

Unlike some people.

She was leaning in again for another kiss, and for a moment Harry wavered. It didn't matter that she wasn't tall enough and her hair wasn't pink enough and her eyes weren't gray enough and her skin wasn't warm enough and her perfume wasn't citrus enough and Parvati wasn't Tonks enough. It didn't matter.

Yet it did, utterly and completely.

"I can't," he said, turning his face so her lips brushed his cheek again. "I'm sorry."

She didn't move away. "Are you sure? I – I want this."

"I can't hook up with you if I'm not into it. Not again. You deserve better than that."

"Why don't you let me decide what I deserve?" she said, devoid of rancor but not quite of hurt, although she clearly tried to hide it.

"No, it's not right. I'm so sorry, Parvati. I wish it were different, I do." He ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could change his feelings for the sweet, uncomplicated girl in front of him.

She sighed heavily, placing a reassuring hand on his chest. "Don't worry about it, Harry. Please don't. I took a chance and it didn't work out. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"You're far too nice for me."

"Rather," she agreed.

He chuckled. "How can you make a joke?"

"Some of us don't mope around every time we get disappointed," she shot back playfully.

Harry held his hands up in surrender. "Point taken, and I stand by what I said: far too nice. Shall we go to dinner now, I suppose?"

"Yes. And Harry? Let's pretend this never happened, yeah?"

Somewhat embarrassed, neither had anything to say, and so the laugh that rang out around the next corner was clearly audible as well as being clearly recognizable to Harry. Without thinking about it, he sped up, turning into the corridor to find the person he knew to be there. The person with her, however, was a surprise.

Tonks reclined against a wall, apparently laughing at something Eric Rosier had said. He leaned on one arm that rested next to her head. It was a harmless pose but intimate enough that Harry unwittingly frowned.

"Potter," Eric drawled with a smirk. He jerked a nod at Parvati.

Harry automatically kept walking, hoping his face wasn't flushing as much as it felt. By the onceover Tonks gave him, it was. He met her eyes as they passed, and though pleasantries were exchanged, he couldn't have said of what those consisted. All he knew was that her eyes were appropriately green today, a green that reflected the emotion that flashed briefly but strongly while she returned his gaze.

Jealous. She was jealous.

Confusion assaulted Harry with every step. How could she choose not to be with him and demonstrate jealousy over another girl at the same time? How was that fair to anyone? He couldn't figure out for the life of him what made her tick, and he was nearly tired of trying.

"I'll catch up with you," he told Parvati suddenly, reeling around without waiting for an answer.

Tonks and Eric had departed the corridor they'd previously occupied, and it took him a moment to find the Auror, alone, strolling in the direction from where Harry and Parvati had come.

"Tonks! Hey, wait up."

She hesitated noticeably before pivoting on her heel, wearing a seemingly carefree smile. "Wotcher, Harry. Do you need something?"

"Do I need something?" he echoed. "I can't simply say hi?"

"Sure you can, but you just saw me."

"Right." He hated feeling awkward with her. "Um, I didn't know you and Eric were friendly."

"We talked a few times at Christmas and such, and I happened to run into him just now. He's funny." Harry nodded, not even sure why he'd chased her down. Tonks noticed his reluctance to speak and misinterpreted it. "Don't feel like you have to talk to me every time we see each other, Harry, especially if you have someone waiting on you."

His eyes snapped up at that, missing her gaze but not her inflection. "You're jealous," he accused.

"Of what?" she said quickly and rather snidely.

'Of who' was the expected response, and the change reinforced his belief she knew exactly who and what. "Never mind," he snapped. "I have to go. See you later."

"Harry?" Her voice met his back. "Are you angry with me?"

"Why would I be angry?" he replied without stopping.

His question required a response no more than hers had, and both knew it.

What was wrong with her? And for that matter, what was wrong with him, that he continued to let it get to him? To let her get to him. He shook his head. He had a girl with more than her share of desirable attributes who wanted to be with him, yet he spent his time hung up on someone who didn't know what she wanted. What kind of idiot took his already complicated life and made it that much more so? _The kind looking at me in the mirror_, he mused.

To his surprise, Parvati remained exactly where he had left her, wearing the expression of one for whom the proverbial light bulb had just gone off. "It's her!" she gasped when Harry was close.

"Who? What? Er, who?"

"The Auror. Tonks. She's the one you've been after all this time. Merlin's beard! I can't believe I didn't see it until now." Her eyes grew impossibly wide.

"Oh …" Harry's lungs deflated like balloons stuck with pins, sighing in a long hiss. "Well, yes. She's the one."

Parvati was on the verge of explosion. "A secret romance? How delicious!" she squealed, thankfully muted, before dropping into a frown. "But – you and I, just now – what …?"

Harry studied her, but only for a moment. She was, as he'd informed her, a very good friend. "Come with me."

Sitting cross-legged in a secluded passageway behind a tapestry, Harry told Parvati nearly the entire story of his relationship with Tonks, leaving out only her reason for breaking up with him. That was her private business.

"And despite everything, when we're together, I think – I know our feelings haven't changed. It makes me want to hit my head against a wall," he finished, smacking his fist on the stone ground for emphasis. "It's just one big sodding mess, isn't it?"

"And then some. Blimey," Parvati said. "What a bitch."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Who made her the relationship dictator, that she can say when you're together and when you aren't without so much as a by-your-leave? You said she still cares for you –"

"She does," he murmured, more to himself than Parvati.

"But all she does is jerk you around and send mixed signals. What a bitch."

"Hey!" he protested. "Wait a second."

She shook her head, sending her long hair twirling. "And you keep defending her. I wish I could inspire that kind of devotion in someone."

Harry's face warmed. "It's only – you don't understand. Sometimes when we're together, it's like the rest of the world doesn't exist. She can make me forget about everything just by smiling. Her laugh – Merlin, it's so loud and uninhibited, but there's not another sound like it in the world. You only know the bad parts; there's no way I could ever properly describe the good. She drives me crazy, in every meaning of the word." Feeling like he'd revealed pieces of himself previously hidden from the outside world, Harry made himself stop.

When Parvati's voice broke the silence, it was soft, tentative. "You love her, don't you?"

He nodded, trusting her to pick up the gesture despite the dim light.

"Then that just makes it worse." Her voice grew stronger, fueled by what he was startled to recognize was righteous indignation. "Because I know – and remember this is coming from someone who was trying to snog you not half an hour ago – that if I had that from you – from anyone – it would break my heart to throw it away like that. If she can't see what you have, if she can't see that dragging it out like this is only making it worse, than perhaps she's right. She doesn't deserve you at all."

Now would have been the point for Harry to jump in and protest, but he found himself unable. Mixed in with Parvati's impassioned words were that of another, of Harry himself, bitter and furious, standing in a fuzzy replica of the Shrieking Shack while figures around faded and materialized according to the whims of his dream. That night, tossing and turning in sleep while his mind feverishly worked overtime, he had definitely been angry with Tonks.

Which made Parvati's next sentence all the more stark in contrast. Pushing herself to a standing position, she gazed down at his still-seated form with something like sadness on her face. "And the most amazing part is that you aren't angry with her, not even a little bit."

**oOo**

Harry and Parvati managed to catch a late dinner before the Great Hall closed for the night. Ron had once proposed open dining hours, allowing students to come and go for meals at their leisure. Hermione had been appalled at the increase that would cause in the workload of the Hogwarts' house-elves, and she wasn't mollified one bit when Harry told Ron that if he was hungry at an odd time, he could always sneak into the kitchen and get food straight from the source.

Harry didn't know what he ate that night. The act was mechanical, more muscle memory than need for sustenance. Of far more interest were his conversations with Tonks and Parvati, eating away at him until he was full not of food but of restless aggravation. He needed to get it out, and there was only one place for that.

There was, as it always had been, only one person.

He didn't know what he said to Parvati nor the path he took to get there, but by the time he stood in front of Tonks' door to her quarters, the latent anger that he'd been suppressing for more than a month came boiling to the surface.

Tonks opened the door, furrowing her brow when she saw who it was. "Harry, what are –"

He stepped inside, forcing her to move aside, and then everything came tumbling out. "You know what? I lied. I am angry. I am so angry because I can't be angry at you. I can't forget about you. And Merlin knows I have tried, I've tried until I'm blue in the face."

Eyes widening, she tried to speak, but once started, he refused to stop.

"But you? You don't get to be angry. _You_ broke up with _me_," he snapped, pointing a finger. "You were the one who walked away, and I'm stuck here trying to get over you, which is pretty damn impossible because despite everything, I'm still in love with you!"

At that fervent, unplanned, so very important declaration, Tonks jerked as if she'd been struck, one hand twitching toward him involuntarily as some noise escaped her mouth, cut off just as quickly. If there were more than two people in the universe at that moment, Harry didn't know. He moved closer, his heart pounding so fiercely it hurt.

His mouth had never been drier. "And … and … and that's the first time I've ever said that aloud to you. That's the first time I've said that to anyone, which is a big deal. And – and I think I'm going to stop talking now."

"Okay," Tonks mumbled, unable to shake the expression of one who'd been slapped.

They continued to stare at each other, chests heaving in unison, until an unknown third party cleared his or her throat. Harry twitched so hard his hand reached for his wand, and even Tonks, whose quarters they occupied, jumped.

"Hello, Harry," Andromeda Tonks said from the sofa, looking nearly as uncomfortable as he felt.

"Oh, hello," he responded automatically, his voice a somewhat higher pitch than normal. "You have company. I didn't realize."

"Mum came for tea," Tonks said stupidly.

"Indeed I did," the woman in question said through thinned lips. "Harry, I would offer you some, but I don't expect you want to stay."

"No, I think I will … I'll just leave you … I should go."

"Lovely to see you, dear," she called.

"You as well." Tonks hadn't budged, and he faced her once again. "Well, now you know, so – so that's good."

"Yeah, that's good," she echoed.

"So I'll just …" He waved his hands at the door in some complicated manner intended to indicate departure.

"Harry?" She took a step closer, then two, an odd caricature of some formal dance. One hand lifted, drifting over his shoulder mere inches away before dropping. "I'll see you later, right?"

He nodded and left.

**oOo**

When later came, Harry knew the bearer of the footsteps behind him without looking. "How'd you know where I was?"

Tonks sat next to him on the edge of the Astronomy Tower. "Tracking spell."

His neck popped when he turned to look at her, stiff from sitting in the night air too long. "Really?"

"No," she said with a credible facsimile of a laugh. "I just knew."

The occasional scuff as Tonks swung her legs or the distant call of some far-off animal provided the only sound. Now that everything was out, Harry didn't know where to begin again.

Best to start with something safe. "Why was your mother here?"

"Checking up on me." She snorted at the look he gave her. "She won't admit it, of course. 'Can't a mother simply want to spend time with her daughter?'" Harry sniggered; as always, Tonks' impressions went well beyond the voice. "No, Mum. No, you can't, not when it's the first time you've visited in the nine months I've been stationed in Scotland." Tonks flicked her eyes in a sidelong glance at Harry. "She read me the riot act after you left, by the way. She doesn't know anything about – us, but after what you said … seems I'm not in anyone's good graces at the moment."

"Why is she worried about you?" he asked, furrowing his brow in concern.

"I'm sure it's nothing," she deflected with a careless wave of her hand into the night. "Mostly I reckon she wanted to warn me my cat's about to be homeless. She worked late a few nights ago and came home to find he'd torn up the corner of her favorite Oriental. Jabba gets tetchy when he's hungry." She laughed again, a hollow sound foreign to her lips. Then, out of nowhere: "She thinks I'm unhappy."

"Are you?" Harry asked carefully, edging closer. She jerked her shoulders in an overly elaborate shrug, pursing her lips as if to stop the reply from slipping out. "I think you are." He seized her hand when the words rushed out, sudden and urgent. "I think we've both been unhappy since we broke up. That's why we're still drawn to one another, that's why we have to remind ourselves we're broken up when we're around each other. We're seeking that … that _thing_ we used to have, that we can only find in each other. We had it, and you threw it away."

"I –" she began to snap, yanking her hand away, before switching gears. "I lied. Earlier. I was jealous. Am. I am jealous. I know I don't have the right –"

"No, you don't."

"I know, I'm sor–"

"Just – just stop, okay?" Harry burst out, jumping down onto the walkway. He was too on edge to literally be standing there. "I can't stand you like this. This regretful, self-loathing kind of person is not you. You should be loud and in my face and cocky and never, ever apologetic. Seeing you like this, it just makes me even angrier. I wish I could get over you. I truly do. But you, Dora, you came into my life and all but demanded that I fall for you."

"I didn't –"

"I know you didn't mean for it to happen, but it did. It's what you do – you insist the world loves you and fuck off if they don't. I look at you and I wonder why everyone isn't in love with you because I can't see how it's possible not to." He gave a humorless little laugh. "And you knew the entire time. You knew I was falling for you, and perhaps you didn't mean to encourage me, but you sure as hell didn't stop me."

"You weren't the only one who was falling, Harry," she said softly, pulling her knees up to her chest. "And you're not the only one who can't get over us."

He stared at her back, not sure whether he wanted to yell at her or take her in his arms and kiss her until he ran out of air. "You confuse the hell out of me."

A sniff that could have been a laugh or a cry. "_I_ confuse the hell out of me."

"I believe you. You must be confused because you say you care about me, you give me all the signals, and then you end it out of nowhere." His voice growing stronger, he wished she would turn around to face him. "That's a shit reason to break up with someone. You don't get to decide you're not good enough for me. That's up to me. You might have issues, but I know you're still the person I want at my side. You need me as much as I need you, and I don't know why you can't see that." He paused for breath, realizing how hard his heart was beating. All the hurt he'd held inside bubbled to the surface. "Why would you want to be alone? I've tried it, and it's terrible. I'm tired of respecting your wishes, Dora. I love you, and I won't stop just because you tell me to."

At that she did whirl around, coming entirely too close to toppling off the wall when she did. Harry grasped her arms, but she shook him free, jumping down to face him. Close. Very close. "I did what I thought was best for us," she countered, stabbing him in the chest with a finger. "For you."

"What was best?" he fired back. "Why do you get to decide, all on your own, what's best? Isn't that what everything I've done this year has been about – being able to decide what's best for myself? That's bullshit. You don't get to make yourself feel better by claiming it was 'for the best.'"

"Feel better?" she cried, throwing her hands in the air. "Merlin's pants, what makes you assume I feel better in the slightest?"

"Then tell me what you feel," Harry demanded. "I'm sorry, you'll have to spell it out for me because not even Dumbledore could figure out your signals."

She prevaricated, walking back and forth and twisting her hands, but when Harry caught a glimpse of her face in the scant light, it was taut with beautiful anguish that was more of an answer than any of her flimsy words. "I – I don't know, Harry! You can't force me to … I don't know. When we're apart, I think about you all the time, and when we're together, I …"

"What?" he insisted, stepping so close he could smell the scent of her shampoo. "What?"

She spun away again, backing off until she could lean against the wall, chin against her chest. When she flipped her head up, that stubborn pose he knew so well shining through for a brief moment, he knew what her answer would be. "When we're together, I forget to think about anyone else."

Harry was there in an instant, only the barest of centimeters and a bit of clothing separating their bodies. His hands grew minds of their own, unable to stop touching her as they traced her jaw, her cheekbones, her nose, her chin, the contours of her throat, her ribcage, the backs of his fingertips brushing against the sides of her breasts. Up and down her arms until she claimed his fingers in her own, pulling him closer until he had her hands held against the rough stone wall next to her head.

"Harry," she breathed, looking up with eyes dark and shining and round. "Are you going to kiss me now?"

Inhaling deeply, Harry leaned forward, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair, her breath hot and quick against his neck. She was here, Tonks was in his arms finally _finally_ again, and all he had to do was make the move. Removing one of his hands from hers, he held it over her chest, feeling the thud of her heart against his palm. She caught her breath when his lips ghosted from ear to cheek to jaw, but just as the corners of their mouths brushed – so soft, so warm, so good, so right – he pulled away.

"No," he said in more of a groan than a word. "Merlin, I want to so badly because I still remember what it feels like to kiss you, and you'd let me, but I can't. Not yet. You have to want me, too. You were the one who broke us up. You have to want this as much as I do."

For a second he thought she would mutter a curse and go for it anyway. When her shoulders twitched with a tiny sigh, he wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. Still, they remained close, their cheeks touching. Finally a soft pressure on his chest made him step back.

"This isn't the end for us," he told her in a low voice that rang with passion. "Call me a fool, but I know it's not."

Amazingly, her lips turned up in a wistful smile. "Is it I who must woo you now?"

He shook his head, returning the smile. "No, you just have to trust me."

"I do." Tonks ducked her head, but he lifted her chin. Tilting it to one side as she gazed at him, she reached up to brush his fringe out of his face, locks of her own hair tumbling into her eyes at the same time. "Don't give up on me, Harry."

**oOo**

It was with new eyes that Harry walked through the corridors of Hogwarts (not literally, though he wished it so; sometimes having glasses was an enormous pain in the rear). As if Tonks' admittance that she still harbored feelings for him had severed his last bit of uncertainty, Harry was able to look only to the future, redoubling his efforts to better himself in all arenas. Although he told himself he'd been doing that all along, it had merely been an exterior facade to hide the doubts that plagued his mind; now, however, every single particle of his being was focused on the ultimate task of defeating Voldemort.

That Parvati appeared to harbor no ill will and was in fact closer to Harry than ever, that Eric returned to study group (albeit speaking only to Hermione and Daphne), and that Tonks let her hands discreetly brush Harry's when they passed each other in the halls were mere bonuses. Bonuses that only heightened his newfound positive outlook, and bonuses that didn't go entirely unnoticed, if in the strangest of ways.

"Harry?"

He turned at the sound of his name after leaving Slughorn's classroom to see Luna fighting her way through the crowd toward him. "Hey, Luna."

"Harry, I need to tell you something," she said quietly, unusually serious.

"Okay …" Frowning, Harry followed the Ravenclaw until they were able to step away from the flow of students into a nearby alcove. "What's up?"

"It's about your friend Tonks. She's perfectly nice, I'm sure, but I've noticed something strange when you're around her. The Wrackspurts go crazy when you're together," she explained earnestly. "It can be quite beautiful, actually, the way they interact, but it worries me there are so many. I'm sure you've heard of the Rotfang Conspiracy."

"Sure," he replied, having no idea what it was.

"So you know to be careful around Aurors, then, particularly since you were working with the Minister. She may be using the Wrackspurts to distract you, and I would hate it so if you developed gum disease. It's said to be painful."

Harry blinked several times. "Yeah, of course. I'll – I'll watch out for it."

"Good." She gave him a pleasant smile before skipping away.

He chuckled to himself. He loved Luna despite, or perhaps because of, all her oddities.

**oOo**

Harry slid to a stop behind some cover, Ron half a step behind him. Harry peeked around the edge only to dart back instantly; a jet of light flew by so closely that if it had been fire, he would have been singed.

"Two of them, two of us," he mused. "I think we can make it."

Ron grunted in agreement. "Shall we go out with wands blazing?"

"No, I have something else in mind." Quickly Harry outlined his plan. When he finished, Ron nodded.

"That's why you're the leader."

"I'm not –"

"Yeah, you are. Admit it and let's get on with this. On three?"

Raising one finger, Harry silently cast a spell on himself before giving Ron the go-ahead. At three, both boys launched a barrage of spells both over and around their makeshift cover. After a few seconds Harry nudged Ron with his foot, and Ron took over for Harry's side, shooting spells from all over.

Under his best disillusionment charm, Harry crept out into the open, torn between moving slow to give the charm its best chance at working and moving quickly to save time. He made his way to the edge of the room, pleased to see that Ron kept Padma Patil and Luca Caruso very busy. Neither appeared to have noticed Harry's escape.

He edged past the two defenders and spotted his goal: an old quaffle, resting on a pedestal on the opposite wall. Once Padma glanced his way, but though she narrowed her eyes, Ron's spells regained her attention. Moving closer and closer, he paused once more and glanced back. Luca was down, disarmed, and so only Ron and Padma remained.

Harry winced; no, only Padma remained. There went Ron's wand. When no subsequent spells followed, she spun around with widened eyes, bringing her wand to bear. Throwing caution to the wind, Harry dove for the quaffle, a spell slicing through the space he had just vacated not a moment later. Landing in a long slide, he slashed the air directly at Padma. _Expelliarmus!_ he shouted in his mind.

The spell from unexpected quarters caught Padma by surprise, and her shield was too late, shattering instantly. Harry caught her wand triumphantly and stood, quaffle in hand, as the rest of the DA stepped away from the walls of the room and clapped.

"Alright, alright," he said modestly, removing the disillusionment charm and tossing Padma's wand back to her. "So you see, no matter your numbers you can't always win head-on. Sometimes you have to be creative. And you have to trust each other. I knew Ron had my back."

Ron ducked his head, grinning, and the DA burst into excited chatter, still on a high from the night's exercise. Harry thought it one of his better ideas; the group was split in two, with the goal to be the capture the quaffle on the other side. Once disarmed, that person was out of the game. The Room of Requirement had played its role splendidly, enlarging in size and providing various objects to use as obstacles and cover.

Only three people didn't join the discussion: Hermione, Eric, and Daphne stood to one side, the former looking rather anxious. Hermione, still acting as a buffer between the two, had talked Harry into inviting the two Slytherins, arguing that Remus had taken Eric under his wing for a reason. If he remained angry and all but friendless, the chances of him taking up with someone like Fenrir Greyback only increased.

"What did you think?" Harry asked on his approach. Both had acquitted themselves well, although it took a stern look from Harry for the rest of the group to grudgingly accept their presence.

"Where'd you learn all this shit?" Daphne asked. "Sorry I slapped you, by the way."

Not one to mince words, that girl. He shrugged it away. "Here and there."

"Did you use this to fight You-Know-Who the night Cedric Diggory died?"

"Some," he answered stiffly.

"Not bad, Potter," Eric admitted with a condescending smile. "Not bad, although I don't know what good you expect to come of it."

Harry watched them leave, turning Eric's comment over in his head. Good? He didn't expect good to come of it. What he expected was to prevent the bad, and wasn't that just as well?

**oOo**

Harry bent his head and twisted his wrist just so, physically leaning closer to Dumbledore's desk as he increased his concentration on Slytherin's ring, so focused on it that everything else faded to black.

"Do you see it, Harry?" The Headmaster's voice penetrated Harry's self-imposed cloud of deliberation.

"Yes!" The instant he lifted his gaze, the red aura around the ring dissipated, but Harry didn't care. He'd done it. "A field of red, just as you described." He pushed his glasses up his nose and brushed away a bead of sweat that threatened to plunge from his brow. "Does it get easier?"

Dumbledore chuckled, returning the former horcrux to a locked drawer in his desk Harry knew also contained a diary with a large hole. "Yes, as with all magic, revealing and tracking spells get easier with practice. That is why we began with something you already knew to have been a vessel of dark magic."

"You really have to lure it out, don't you?" Harry ruminated.

Dumbledore nodded. "As the original magic grows older and weaker, the traces will disintegrate. As well, dark magic is by nature often desirous of secrecy."

"Do they ever disappear completely?"

Dumbledore took a moment to answer. "It depends on the strength of the spell. Something so strong and so very much against the laws of nature as a horcrux would leave such traces that will never go away. This is all merely conjecture, of course; little study has been done on the matter of horcruxes, and we must be thankful for that."

_Too right_, Harry thought to himself. He wished he'd never heard of them. Actually, if he were in the habit of wishing things, he wished Tom Riddle had never heard of them.

"Harry," Dumbledore began, with a shifting tone of voice that made Harry sit up and pay attention. "Your progress at tracing dark magic comes at a pivotal time. I believe I am very close to discovering the location of another horcrux."

Harry sat ramrod straight now. "You are? Where?"

"Shall you try a guess?" A twinkle fluttered in the Headmaster's wise azure eyes. "What do we know of Tom's childhood before attending Hogwarts?"

"He was born and raised in an orphanage, but he hated that place," Harry thought aloud, encouraged by a slight nod. "I don't think he ever went anywhere else before Hogwarts."

"Never?"

"No, not unless – trips. They took a trip to ... to the sea! Where he did something to those kids, right?"

Dumbledore beamed. "Very good. Mrs. Cole told me two children were never the same upon return from a trip to the seashore. It is my hypothesis it was this place therein Tom first learned he could control magic enough to affect others."

_I can make them hurt if I want to._

"You've found it?" Harry asked eagerly. "And I can go with you?"

"I am almost certain I have, and yes, you may accompany me. I shall ask only two things of you at that time: that you do not hesitate to use whatever magic you feel necessary, and that you follow my requests without reluctance, no matter what. Do you promise?"

It was phrased oddly – almost as if the Headmaster was sure Harry would falter – but there was no way he was going to miss this. "Yes, sir."

"Good. I will not hide the fact that this will be dangerous."

Harry's excitement almost couldn't be dampened, but when he caught a glimpse of the blackened tips of Dumbledore's hand, a sobering thought occurred. "That's when you hurt your arm, right? When you found the last horcrux? Don't you think it's time to tell me?"

Dumbledore gazed at Harry with an odd expression before sighing. "Very well." He withdrew the ring from his desk and placed it on his desk once more. "It was my own foolishness, to be sure. The ring was ingeniously hidden and highly protected. Upon finding it, I thought myself clever enough to have breached its defenses that I did not consider there would be further safeguards. In my eagerness I acted too hastily. The ring itself was cursed, and it was apparent the moment I placed it on my finger. Thankfully I acted quickly enough after that, or we would not be having this conversation."

"You're okay now, though?" Harry asked, switching his gaze between the deadened hand and the deadly ring.

Dumbledore shook his robe over the hand, hiding it away, as he had developed the habit of doing. "I returned to Hogwarts immediately and Professor Snape was able to trap it in my hand at that time." He considered the ring again. "You must understand, Harry, the sentient nature of a horcrux. Beyond whatever protections someone else may put in place, the piece of soul secured within will defend itself. They are, after all, parts of Voldemort himself. As you saw in the Chamber of Secrets, he transfers some of his memories and powers to them."

The world seemed to stop. Harry faced not the Headmaster but his own life, laid out in front of him like a children's picture book.

'_Unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar.'_

'_Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?'_

'_The curse that failed to kill you seems to have forged some kind of connection between you and the Dark Lord.'_

His scar pounded. Was it his imagination, or was it slightly off from the beating of his heart, as if it throbbed to the pulse of another? High, maniacal laughter echoed in his ears. Only when he pulled himself together did he realize what he was actually hearing was his name, repeated over and over by a grave and concerned Headmaster.

He would know. Harry had learned since last year that Dumbledore was not infallible, but he would know this. But even as the idea presented itself, his courage failed him and Harry gladly let it fall away. If one didn't ask a question, one couldn't receive an answer.

Some questions were better left unasked.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said automatically. "I –" _Haven't been myself lately?_ He suppressed a crazed urge to laugh. "I haven't been sleeping well and lost my concentration."

Those sharp eyes hadn't yet dulled with age or curse, and Dumbledore and Harry knew each other well enough to know what was left unsaid. Nevertheless, all Dumbledore said was, "Yes, I fear I have kept you far too long. It is past time you returned to your dormitory."

It was with some relief, whether real or imagined, that Harry seized on Dumbledore's evasion of the unasked question. Perhaps Harry was wrong. What had they been talking about before he let his imagination get the best of him? Oh, right, the danger of hunting a horcrux. "Should we have help finding the horcrux?" he blurted. Dumbledore frowned slightly. "I mean, it's dangerous, and I know that you're _you_, sir, but it's better to be on the side of caution when it comes to this."

"You believe more than the two of us should go?" Harry nodded. "Interesting. Tell me how you would do it."

Dumbledore had been leaving more and more decisions up to Harry lately, or at least considering his opinion, and Harry found he liked it. He took a moment to toss it around in his head. "Bill Weasley, Remus Lupin, and … Tonks," he said slowly. "Bill is a cursebreaker, Remus has experience with dark magic, and Tonks is … someone I trust innately. They could help. Tonks could take a message to them; it's safer than a letter."

"You do recall my words about limiting knowledge of the horcruxes when we began this journey, correct? Spreading awareness of a secret weakens it, much like a secret-keeper letting others in on the Fidelius Charm."

"I remember, Professor, and I understand, but I think there's a risk of guarding secrets too closely." He couldn't help adding, "It's something you and I have always seen differently."

For a moment they considered each other. Then Dumbledore folded his hands, lowering his chin in a nod. Surprising Harry, Fawkes made a low trill on his perch. "Very well, Harry. Think on this for a few days, and tell me your decision."

At first Harry left rather pleased, buoyed by the fact that Dumbledore was letting him make more and more choices. Then, like a persistent raincloud, his unwanted thoughts about his connection with Voldemort made a sudden return.

**oOo**

An odd sight greeted Harry in the first floor girls' lavatory a few days later. Tonks perched on a tap (one which held special significance, although she was unaware) with her legs crossed, chatting animatedly with a ghost wearing an old-fashioned Hogwarts uniform in Ravenclaw colors.

The ghost gasped when Harry entered and swooped to his side. "Harry!" she exclaimed in a soft, simpering voice before pouting. "It's been ever so long since you came to see me."

"Do you make a habit of visiting girls' toilets?" Tonks asked in an amused tone.

"Er, hello, Myrtle," he said, trying to avoid walking through her. Myrtle had always paid much attention to Harry, to his discomfort.

Tonks glanced around. "It's an odd place for a date, but I'm here as requested, on time and with my broomstick. Want to tell me what's going on?"

"You'll see. First I need you to get down from the sink."

"Oh, you're here to meet _her_," said Myrtle, looking from one to the other. "No one ever comes to visit Myrtle anymore, not since he left."

"Who?" Tonks asked, but neither was listening.

Myrtle sidled up to Harry again, so close he got a chill. "Will I have to come find you in the baths again, Harry Potter?" At this Tonks fell into a fit of coughing. "People only use my bathroom when they're up to something. Never mind poor Myrtle. It's only her home. Yes, fill it up with nasty bits of smoke."

"It's not as if you can smell it, can you?" Tonks snarked.

As always, her state of death was a touchy subject, and with a wail and a splash, Myrtle disappeared into the U-bends once again.

"Forgot how sensitive she is," Tonks remarked. "You've been here before? Harry?"

He was off in his head again – was it _his_ head? – and forgot what was going on around him. He blinked, the bathroom returning to focus, but before he could speak Tonks stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. The hug was both warm and brief.

Though the initiator, she appeared as nonplussed as he felt. "You looked like you could use a hug," she said quickly. "I mean, unless you want me to call Myrtle back. She seems more than willing."

"You have no idea," he said. "But, um, you asked – yeah, I've been here before. We made the Polyjuice Potion in here second year." Not sure what had just happened, he turned his attention to examining the tap that had a snake scratched on one side.

"Clever hiding spot. Always out of order, you know, that's why we took fag breaks here when I was in school. Hey, that tap doesn't … work …"

Tonks gaped when Harry leaned down, rasping, "_Open,_" at the engraved tap in a hissing language. The sink began to move and slide, revealing a pipe large enough for a person.

"Merlin's family jewels," she mumbled faintly. "Was that … _Parseltongue_?" He nodded. "Blimey. I knew you could speak it, but … blimey. I'm not sure if I'm creeped out or turned on."

"I'm not sure which I want you to be," he confessed, and both laughed.

Tonks peered inside with undisguised interest. "Where does it go?"

"You'll have to find out for yourself. Grab the broom."

With that Harry jumped inside the pipe, knowing she would be right behind him. Tonks couldn't resist a challenge. He heard the sound of her body behind him as they slid down the dark, damp passage. Upon leaving four years earlier, he had no intention of ever returning, but that just showed how much he knew.

Harry sprang to his feet and moved out of the way when the pipe leveled out and emptied into a tunnel, just in time for Tonks to land in a somersault behind him. He gave her a hand up before wiping the slime off his hands and trousers.

"Ring-a-ding-ding," Tonks drawled, looking around their damp surroundings. "This place is swanky, baby. You bring all the skirts here?"

"You'll never know," he teased. "Come on, there's something we need."

Leaving her broom by the entrance, they lit their wands and set off, trying not to step on the numerous animal bones that littered the earthen floor of the tunnel. It seemed smaller to Harry, but he supposed it was merely his perception as he'd been smaller the last time. It came flooding back, that early adventure that held so much more significance now. At the time, all he cared about was saving his best friend's sister. He'd no idea what evil lay ahead. Not the vicious monster with the fatal gaze, no; the true evil had been cleverly concealed inside an ink-stained diary with yellowed pages.

Would it have changed anything, if he'd known what the memory of Tom Riddle truly was? No, he decided, he would have thrown himself headfirst into saving Ginny and worried about anything else later, no matter the cost. He would do it again. That was where Harry was at his best, after all, not fumbling through political intrigues or even romantic dealings with the object of his affection. Harry was at home, could act on and trust mere instinct, when danger loomed.

Either sensing his mind was elsewhere or content to leave him to his thoughts, Tonks didn't say much as Harry led them unerringly through the maze of tunnels. She did stop in her tracks the first time they came upon an enormous snake skin, still intact though brittle, and Harry had to drag her away. Finally they reached a solid wall on which two serpents were engraved, their eyes glittering green in an unnervingly realistic manner.

"_Open,_" Harry hissed again, and the snakes obliged, slithering apart before the wall split in two down the middle and opened. He stepped inside first, gesturing with his arm. "Welcome to the Chamber of Secrets."

It was much as he remembered, and entirely different. Elaborately carved pillars ran the length of the dark chamber, with puddles of water covering parts of the floor, and a statue of Salazar Slytherin towered over the end. Yet, without the terrible fear, of the basilisk and Tom Riddle, for Ginny and himself, the chamber seemed to lack something. Not that he was complaining.

Ignorant of his introspection, Tonks focused entirely on the rotting corpse of the basilisk at the far end. She swore under her breath as she approached. The body was nearly entirely decomposed, a few bits of skin and muscle still dangling from the broad bones resting exactly where Harry had slayed it, torso twisted and head upside down.

"You fought this?" she said faintly. "Ickle twelve-year-old Harry, versus this thing?"

"Well, uh … yeah," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

She whistled. "Not bad, Potter. No wonder Ginny was convinced you were her one true love. Very knight in shining armor."

"I just did what anyone would have done," he defended himself before noticing her mocking smile. "Oh, shut up."

She grinned. "Did you bring me here just to show off?"

"Smartass. Dumbledore thinks he's found another horcrux. Yeah, I know, good news. It made me think we ought to have a backup method, in case the sword of Gryffindor … well, just in case. Never hurts, right?"

"Not at all. Good thinking." Tonks moved closer and peered in the slightly open mouthful of teeth. "We should be able to just –" She swiped her wand through the air, slicing through a few of the teeth.

They broke off and landed at her feet, far too close for Harry's comfort. If one so much as grazed her skin … He darted forward and grabbed her arms, pulling her backward. "Careful! If one scratched you … I don't have any phoenix tears handy."

"There you go again," she said, dropping her voice. "Rescuing the damsel in distress."

He was still holding her. He didn't know why, nor why she made no move away. It was his turn to talk, wasn't it? "If it's you …"

"I'm not complaining." Her voice was low enough to be almost seductive.

Slowly dripping water from some unseen place provided the soundtrack. Tonks twisted her head around to gaze at Harry with eyes as bright and blue as a clear sky, leaving far too easy access to her neck, begging to be kissed. _Just lean in_, he told himself.

No. If she wanted him, she had to make that choice herself. Clearing his throat, Harry gently released her, and they set out gathering the basilisk fangs, kneeling next to the skeleton's mouth while they removed the teeth, placing them in a conjured bag and being very careful not to touch the still-sharp tips.

Harry told Tonks about Dumbledore's offer and his dilemma. "What do you think?" he asked her. She hesitated in a way that still struck him as odd, for the old Tonks never withheld her advice, wanted or not, so he added, "This is me asking you."

That earned a smile, as good a reward as any. "Cheeky bugger. Hmm. It is difficult to ask people to potentially risk their lives without knowing why."

"Exactly," Harry agreed emphatically. "Dumbledore has made that mistake. I don't want to repeat it."

"But on the other hand, the minute you let someone in on such a dangerous secret as this, you put that person at risk as well." Harry tilted his head, not quite understanding, so she elaborated. "Knowledge, Harry. They become a source of information."

"Oh. That is a problem. But if it's someone you trust – what?"

She was shaking her head, turquoise ringlets bouncing. "That doesn't matter. The first thing we learned during undercover training is that everybody talks."

"But –"

"_Everybody_ talks, Harry." She turned to face him, hands on her knees. "What you have to decide is if it's worth the risk. You can't protect everyone, and you don't hold their lives in your hands. Only they do."

Harry concentrated on the fang he was severing, using his wand to slice through the very top before pulling it away and sliding it in the bag. "You either trust someone or you don't," he decided. "My parents trusted the wrong person because they wanted to protect Sirius. They thought no one would expect Pettigrew. They were right; no one expected Pettigrew, not to do what he did. If they'd let Sirius make that decision, they might still be alive."

Tonks didn't respond. What she did do was reach out and squeeze his shoulder, running her hand down his arm before dropping away, leaving him with goose pimples.

"So will you give Bill and Remus a message from me?"

"Of course. Write whatever you want, and I'm your – messenger." She cleared her throat, making him wonder what she'd meant to say.

"And you, of course," he added, realizing he'd left her out this entire time.

"Me?"

He took his time glancing around the cavern. "I don't see anyone else, do you?"

"Oh. Okay. Yeah." She seemed to be having a hard time concealing a smile.

"I meant what I said on the Astronomy Tower, you know." He sought to hold her eyes. "No matter what happens between us, you're still the one I want by my side."

Her eyes brightened, eyebrows inching up just perceptibly, and she jerked her head in a nod several times. "That's good," she said.

Their conversation occupied most of the time it took to gather the basilisk fangs, and they didn't linger. This place had too many near-experiences for Harry to be comfortable in it. Ginny nearly died, he nearly died, Voldemort nearly returned two years early. However, the first horcrux had been destroyed, so it wasn't all bad. He scuffed his shoe at a large black stain on the floor when he passed.

Tonks was quiet on the return trip just as she'd been on the first, and though it took him a minute to notice, still caught up in his memories of the place, when he did he found it curious. However, the silence seemed neither pressing nor awkward; rather, it resembled those times at which he'd felt most at ease with Tonks because of the simple fact that nothing needed to be said. If anything, he would've guessed she was content enough not to clutter their time together with meaningless conversation for the sake of noise. One didn't have to speak to talk.

He had just helped Tonks climb through the pile of rocks caused by that idiot Professor Lockhart and Ron's faulty, spellotaped wand when she muttered something barely audible that was, as best he could make out, "Oh, bugger this."

Then Tonks released his hand, dropped the bag of venomous fangs with a clatter, seized the front of his shirt with two fists, pulled him close, and kissed him soundly.

Harry might as well have never been kissed before, if this was what he held up in comparison. Nothing was real but the woman in his arms. Apologetic? Regretful? Tentative? Never. This was the Tonks he had fallen for, her kiss hot and demanding and more than he knew a kiss could be. Air was no longer a necessity but something to be ignored, for they were starved of far greater things than oxygen.

One hand on her waist and the other in her hair, Harry pulled her closer, a fruitless effort as they were already as close as close could be. Warmth radiated from her mouth through his, spreading to all parts of his being as Tonks finally made up her mind. Thank Merlin she never did things halfway. She kissed him like she meant it, and she did.

When it was over, Harry only then realized she had him pressed against the damp, rocky wall in a way that should have been uncomfortable but wasn't. Something blazed fiercely in her now-gray eyes, eyes that hovered mere inches from his own as she maintained her tight grip like a drowning person clutched a flotation device. Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. Then Tonks laughed, an airy, delighted sound, and Harry joined her.

Perhaps they were drowning, and perhaps they were keeping each other afloat.


	39. Cave

**Cave**

Harry met Professor Dumbledore in his office well after curfew, but they were unimpeded as they went down to the Entrance Hall, not that anyone would have questioned the Headmaster anyway. Tonks met them outside the doors with an eager smile for Dumbledore and one for Harry that he liked to call 'his' smile, one she reserved for him alone.

However, he didn't have time to dwell on it, for there was a more important task at hand. The three of them strode with few words toward the gates, outside of which Remus Lupin and Bill Weasley met them. Tonks had simply told them they needed to find a possession of Voldemort's which would help defeat him. If they had questions beyond that, they didn't ask now, merely offering greetings.

"I believe Harry has been upfront with you about the danger?" Dumbledore asked quietly. He, too, had withheld any questions when Harry decided they needed to bring help. It made Harry surge with pride; Dumbledore trusted his decisions.

When they nodded, Dumbledore withdrew his wand. "I need to show you where to go."

He placed it at his temple, withdrawing a liquidy strand of silver, and gently held it out to Remus, who in turn took the free end with the tip of his wand and lifted it to his own head, where it receded. After repeating it with Bill and Tonks, he turned to Harry.

"Do you understand what I am doing?"

"You're giving them a memory, like for a pensieve."

"Yes, to show them where to apparate. I can place it through legilimancy as well, but I find this manner less invasive."

Remus added, "It's not an entirely safe way to apparate, as you're relying on a picture instead of personal knowledge which adds more than simply appearance, but we're all practiced in this manner of apparating."

"Plus Professor Dumbledore gives particularly good images," said Tonks. "Some of the blokes I went through Auror training with ... I could draw clearer images with crayons and stick figures."

Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you, my dear. Harry, you will go with me. If you will take my hand ...?" He proffered his good arm.

Once Harry held it tightly, Dumbledore twisted – squeezing, pulling, suffocating darkness – and they arrived on an unknown seashore. Remus, Bill, and Tonks appeared in quick succession.

His senses were immediately assaulted by a distinctive salty scent and the sound of crashing surf. The shore wasn't what he expected for the location of a childhood seaside holiday. Rocky, foreboding cliffs rose up behind the group, and no proper sandy beach was anywhere in sight.

"Is this it, Professor?" he asked quietly. "Not somewhere I'd fancy for a holiday."

"I imagine they took the children up there," Dumbledore said. As if reading Harry's thoughts, he added, "Riddle would most certainly have used magic to climb down." He raised his voice so the others could hear. "Our destination is there."

Following Dumbledore's long finger, Harry could just make out a dark opening, a cave or inlet. No paths nor rocks led there. In fact, the only way to get there was –

"Time for a swim, then?" asked Tonks, already shedding her jacket.

Bill followed suit, as well as Harry and Remus with their robes, leaving them in a heap where they stood, but Dumbledore was content for his robes to remain, slipping into the water and swimming with broad strokes that belied his age and infirmity.

Harry gasped when he waded in. Icy water assaulted his lungs, recalling his inadvertent dip in the Black Lake with Tonks on Valentine's Day. However, once his body adjusted, it wasn't too difficult to swim, and the current was nice enough to help them along.

Sloping, uneven ground met his feet sooner than he expected. He climbed out gladly, shivering and trying to wring water from his dripping clothes with minimal results. While Dumbledore, magically already dry, focused on the cave entrance, Bill and Tonks dried each other, and it was Remus who helped out Harry. Harry nodded his gratitude. He didn't want to use magic until it became necessary, unsure if Voldemort's protections would also block the Trace.

"My apologies, Harry," Dumbledore said when he noticed. "Shall we enter?"

"I'll wait here," said Remus. "If you trigger any alarms, I'll alert you of company and hold them off."

He squeezed Harry's shoulder as he passed. The remaining four proceeded inside the cave, probing the unknown darkness with light from the tips of their wands. Tonks pulled a torch from her bag and tossed it to Harry.

"Anti-apparition, anti-portkey," she mused aloud a moment later, waving her wand in a pattern Harry was pleased to recognize.

"No alarms or intrusion jinxes," said Bill, copying her movements. "Strange. In Egypt, the point of entry of a tomb always has the strongest protection."

"Egyptian tombs are well-known, and attempts to break in are inevitable," Dumbledore postulated. "This is Riddle's secret, which is not to say it will not be equally protected, or even more so. Rather, I believe he will want to know who discovered his secrets and who was strong enough to break his enchantments. Harry, what does that tell you?"

When Harry figured out the answer, his stomach clenched. "The problem won't be getting in," he replied with a sinking feeling of dread. "It will be getting out."

No one commented on that.

The cave came to an end, leaving them facing a smooth, broad stone wall. No doorway or tunnel lay in sight.

"What do you reckon?" Tonks whispered to Harry while Bill and Dumbledore pulled their wands, murmuring to themselves.

He shrugged. It was obvious they'd missed something, but where? Sidestepping Bill, he walked toward the wall in a purposeful stride, one hand held out to prevent himself from crashing into it, which was exactly what happened. So much for that idea.

"Thought it might be like Platform 9 ¾," he muttered to Tonks, who grinned.

"Not a bad idea, babe," she said, rolling the endearment around her mouth. He liked to hear it as much as she liked to say it. "Easy to overlook simple solutions."

"I believe it is quite simple, in a manner of speaking," said Dumbledore. "Overly crude, yet simple. He requires a sacrifice."

"A sacrifice?" Harry repeated with some alarm. That didn't sound very simple to him.

"A minor sacrifice, Harry. Riddle would see it as a physical weakness, and as one who has always feared death, he places that higher than one ought. His mistake."

Before anyone could stop him, Dumbledore's wand slashed the air, and blood splattered from the ensuing gash on his forearm onto the stone. The outline of a door soon shimmered in the same dark red color before fading away, taking the stone with it and leaving a large if rough doorway.

"Merely a bit of blood," explained Dumbledore.

Harry had seen blood keep himself alive, burn the skin of another, and bring someone back to life. 'A bit of blood' didn't seem like a minor sacrifice, and he was warier than ever as he walked through. It resealed itself as soon as Dumbledore, who was last, passed through.

The Headmaster attempted to heal his arm, but nothing happened. Frowning, he tried again with the same results. He looked up at the ceiling of the cave. "Is that it, Tom?"

"Here, Professor," said Tonks, tearing a strip from the bottom of her shirt to wrap around his arm. "This should stop the bleeding."

"Thank you, Nymphadora," he replied, bringing a not very well hidden grimace to her face.

They pressed forward. The utter quiet was unnerving, and darkness threatened to suffocate them from all around, lifting the hairs on the back of Harry's neck. Something was wrong here. The obstacles thus far had been minor, lending credence to his guess about getting in versus getting out. Strangely, he began to smell the stinging saltiness of the sea again. It grew, along with it a tiny, distant light, not a wand or torch but something fuzzier, like a glow.

The path came to an abrupt end and with it the walls themselves, shearing away to reveal an immense cavern, far larger than then the preceding cave. The glow Harry had seen earlier emitted from a small island in the middle of a lake. Dumbledore stood on the sloping edge, murky water not quite lapping his buckled boots.

"Another swim?" asked Tonks, taking a step forward.

Dumbledore held up his hand. "That would not be wise." No explanation followed.

The Auror and the curse breaker immediately began to wave their wands, silent and grim. Some spells Harry recognized – he thought Bill was searching for an invisible bridge over the water – some he didn't. What captured his attention was that the Headmaster did neither, instead leaning over the water to grasp something unseen. He pulled, hand over hand like he was reeling in a rope or chain, and Harry wasn't the only one who jumped in surprise when an actual boat scraped the ground.

Damp, wooden, and aged, the boat that appeared out of nowhere hardly gave the impression of a seaworthy vessel, much less one for the group. Bill pointed out the obvious.

"There's no way we can fit in that. Maybe two at most, jammed together. Is there another?"

Dumbledore replied, calmly and with assurance, "No. This is where we part. Harry, if you will precede me?"

Bill gave him a sharp look. "Are you sure, sir? Perhaps Tonks or I –"

"It is time for Harry and I to continue on our own. I also suspect the boat has limitations beyond physical weight which would make it unwise for two grown wizards to attempt use of it. Do not worry. I am with Harry."

'_Harry is with me'_ would have been the expected reassurance, and Harry didn't know if the change encouraged or frightened him.

Tonks returned from scouting the perimeter and glanced at the water with clear unease. "Professor …"

"I know," he said cryptically. "Stay out of the water. Harry, please get in."

Harry surrendered the torch to Tonks, letting his fingers briefly linger with hers while she gave him a glance of clear worry. He nodded in what he hoped was a comforting way before climbing into the boat. Dumbledore followed (as Bill predicted, their knees pressed against one another). The boat began to move of its own accord, slipping back into the water, where it rode low, and floating toward the island. The glow on the center took on a greenish tint as they drew closer.

Harry glanced back at the two on the shore one last time before they faded to the lit tips of their wands, and when his gaze slid down at the water, he nearly jumped out of his skin. A face, a skull attached to a body but still a face, stared back at him from just under the surface.

"Professor, there are … _things_ in the water."

"I am aware, Harry," Dumbledore replied, still calm as could be.

Harry held his wand tighter, forcing himself to breathe slowly and deeply. He couldn't hide his extreme uneasiness, but it was best not to let his thoughts get the better of him. When the boat bumped into the island, he scrambled out gratefully, making sure to keep his shoes as far from the water as possible.

The island was not large, composed of smooth, dark stone sloping up to a pedestal and basin at the peak, from which the green glow radiated. That was where the horcrux lay. It had to be. Remembering how the diadem had all but called out to him, Harry was somewhat surprised not to feel a thing from this one, but he chalked it up either to his strengthened mind shields from his occlumency training or further protection from Voldemort. In the case of the diadem, he seemed to have left a major of the protection of the horcrux up to the secretive nature of the Room of Requirement. That was clearly not the case here.

It all seemed too simple, truly, when they hiked up the hill and gazed into the basin to find a silver locket at the bottom underneath a clear liquid. Naturally, what seemed too simple was, in fact, not, made apparent when Harry reached in to scoop out the locket. His hand never got wet at all, met by some invisible, inflexible barrier. He tried again, pushing, but it seemed the air itself conspired to keep him away. Perplexed, he glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded in an encouraging way.

Harry tried summoning the horcrux. He tried vanishing the liquid away, tried siphoning it over the side. He conjured a cup and scooped some out, only for it to disappear and reappear in the basin when he tried to dump it on the ground. He tried to crack the basin and use a hot-air charm to evaporate the liquid and whatever spells he could possibly think of reach the locket. Nothing worked.

"I think it must be drank," said Dumbledore.

Harry recoiled with horror. Without any rhyme or reason, his instinct told him that was a very horrible idea. There had to be some other way. But without further ado Dumbledore conjured an unelaborate goblet. With his hand hovering just above the basin, he suddenly looked at Harry. Nothing twinkled in his eyes now.

"Harry, do you remember what I had you promise in my office when I told you I found a horcrux?" Eyes locked, Harry nodded. "I must ask you to respect that promise. No matter what else I say, make sure I drink all of this. Am I clear?"

It took all Harry had to nod again, now more sure than ever that no one should ingest the liquid. "That's not water, is it?"

"No, that's not water."

"But what if it kills you?" Harry blurted the instant before the goblet touched the not-water.

"I do not believe it will kill me. I do believe, however, that I might wish it had."

With that reassuring statement he allowed Harry no more time to ask any other questions before plunging the goblet in. Harry half-expected something to happen right away, his hand to sizzle or the goblet to crumble, perhaps, but they did not. When Dumbledore withdrew the goblet, it was full to the brim though not one droplet clung to the outside or his hand. He raised it to his lips and drank deeply.

Again, nothing. A grimace crossed his face, but he didn't say a word as he filled the cup again. Again, and again, and every time he drank, Harry's stomach clenched as if he were the one drinking. After several drinks, Dumbledore paused, clenching the rim of the basin for support.

"Sir?" Harry asked urgently.

Dumbledore shook his head without responding. He took a drink again, his hand noticeably shaking. After a few more, Harry began to hear a low groan, the likes of which he'd never heard from the Headmaster. Another drink, and then a worse sound – a whimper.

"Please," Dumbledore whispered. He stared across the island away from Harry, but nothing was there. "Please."

"Please, what? Professor?"

Harry didn't seem to exist to Dumbledore anymore. He continued to gaze at nothing, and then, as if by pure will, he slowly filled the goblet again. His hand shook once more when he drank, spilling some of it across his face, but the liquid quickly vanished, and Harry didn't have to look at the basin to know where it went.

"Please," Dumbledore said again. "Please make it stop."

It was nearly too much for Harry to bear. To see Albus Dumbledore reduced to a trembling, whimpering, pleading figure was just so _wrong_. What was the drink doing to him? It was more than physical pain, Harry saw when Dumbledore returned his attention to him, his blue eyes wracked with torment.

"Please."

It was different, directed at Harry this time, and he knew what he had to do. Taking the goblet from Dumbledore's loose grasp, Harry filled it. The liquid was cold, but his hand dried as soon as it emerged.

"Here, Professor, drink this. Just a few more."

'Just a few more' proved to be a lie. The basin was deeper than it had appeared at first glance, or perhaps it was the fact that each drink seemed harder and harder on Dumbledore. He soon slumped to the ground, begging some unknown. Alarmed, Harry poured the drinks down his throat as quickly as he could, all the while trying to block out the sounds of Dumbledore's pain. Trying and failing.

"Please make it stop. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I never meant for it to happen."

"Just a few more. Almost done."

"You're hurting her! Stop!"

Though he knew it wasn't addressed to him, Harry almost stopped anyway. Who was 'her'? He'd never known any woman in Dumbledore's life. In fact, he didn't know anyone in or anything about Dumbledore's life before and outside of Hogwarts. The sound of rasping stone brought his attention back to his task. The goblet scraped against the bottom of the basin, the very last drop just filling it up. Harry eagerly reached for the horcrux, one part of his mind still wondering why he couldn't hear it and hoping against hope he had been wrong about why he could with another, but something blocked his hand again. Harry swore under his breath and turned to give Dumbledore the last drink.

The Headmaster gazed at him (whether he thought it was Harry or someone else was up in the air) beseechingly. "Please make it stop. No more. I'll do what you want."

Harry paused. The Headmaster was groaning, a lone tear making a track down his weathered face into his beard, using a tone Harry had never heard from him. He couldn't do it. Despite his promise, he couldn't cause him more pain. Surely just one drink couldn't be that bad.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing to take it like a dose of unpleasant medicine: as quickly as possible. He raised the goblet to his mouth, remarkably stable despite knowing it would cause untold pain –

– and a deadened hand closed around his arm. Harry opened his eyes to find Dumbledore looking up at him.

"No," he whispered. "Harry, please …"

Harry could have shrugged him off, ignored him and taken the drink himself, ended his ordeal, but the fact that Dumbledore roused himself from his torment enough to stop him gave him pause. Slowly, reluctantly, Harry tipped the goblet not into his own mouth but into Dumbledore's for the last time.

He drank it almost eagerly, made one shuddering gasp, and fell to the ground. Harry cried out, terrified he'd just killed Professor Dumbledore, and knelt, gasping with relief when he found him breathing.

"No, no, no. Water, please. Water … make it stop."

Finding he still clenched the goblet, Harry pointed his wand at it with an _Aguamenti_ spell. The water evaporated on contact. He tried again with the same result, and yelled it aloud a third time in frustration before trying to shoot water directly in Dumbledore's mouth. That, too, failed.

Casting about in desperation, Dumbledore's resumed pleas filling his ears, Harry dashed to the edge of the island, plunging the goblet into the icy water. To his relief it remained full –

– and a deadened hand closed around his arm. Except this time it wasn't Dumbledore's; it belonged to a body emerging from the water, pale and gaunt. Dead. And there wasn't simply the one. Two, three, a dozen corpses climbed out of the water, pulling on Harry with surprising strength, yanking on his clothes and limbs and whatever they could grab to take him back down into the water with him. Harry kicked and tugged, finally freeing his wand hand enough to send a few flying backward with an impediment jinx. He severed the hand gripping his wrist, but amazingly the former owner of the hand kept coming, not even noticing the wound, a wound that wasn't bleeding. Another brushed off a stunner as easily as a dragon, and two more continued their forward press despite being slashed by a curse that would have brought a human, bleeding profusely, to the ground. Harry fought to stay calm, removing the closest bodies one by one, even if most of his spells were merely temporary, although he exploded one's head spectacularly. That one wasn't coming back.

Inferi. What did he know about Inferi? From observation he could see they did not bleed and felt neither pain nor fear. He'd studied them in DADA. Inferi were dark creatures. Light was the opposite of dark, wasn't it? And with a wave of relief, he remembered something else that preferred the dark and damp.

_Are you a wizard or not, Harry?_

He brandished a flame from the end of his wand like a medieval torch. The creatures recoiled, and though he knew they would recover in a second, the momentary respite was enough for him to scramble away, clutching the goblet like the world's most precious diamond. He slid to a halt next to Dumbledore, casting the strongest shield he could muster around them. A mass of Inferi came from all sides now.

Somehow the goblet was still half-full of water. Harry hesitated for a split second, wondering how sanitary it could be with those things residing in it, before deciding he was overthinking it. There was nothing else to do but upend the cup in Dumbledore's mouth. Some splashed on Dumbledore's face in his haste. Regardless, it seemed to work, for Dumbledore was able to climb to his feet with Harry's assistance. Dropping the goblet, Harry quickly conjured a cloth, used it to grab the horcrux – a locket, Slytherin's locket that Marvolo Gaunt had been so proud of and Merope Gaunt had all but given away – chafing his knuckles in the process, and shoved it into his pocket. Now to get to the boat and cross the water.

Dumbledore mumbled something.

"Sir?" Harry asked anxiously, knocking two Inferi back with one of their own only to watch more take their places.

Dumbledore stumbled, and Harry grabbed at his robes to prevent him from falling. Then, despite the danger all around, Harry gaped. The robes tore open, and Harry could clearly see, in the light shining from his wand, that the blackened skin from Dumbledore's hand had spread. Arm, shoulder, chest – how far had the curse gone?

"Fire," Dumbledore whispered hoarsely, and Harry understood the order instantly, forgetting about the shocking extent of the Headmaster's curse.

_Incendio!_ Putting as much force behind the spell as he could, a jet of flame shot from the tip of Harry's wand. The nearest Inferi caught fire, and Harry sent them tumbling into their brethren, spreading the flames.

Over and over Harry shot flames at their attackers, clearing a path to the boat. He helped the Headmaster in and kicked off, jumping inside while making sure not to touch the water. Dumbledore's earlier warning was clear as day now.

As before, the boat made its own path. Harry briefly wondered why Voldemort would enable somewhat of an escape route before figuring he might want to check on his horcruxes. That thought was sobering; how long did they have before Voldemort caught on to their intention? If he moved the ones he had, or even made more (as sickening as the idea was) … would they ever be able to destroy them all?

Harry removed the fatalistic thoughts from his head. Their mission to seek and destroy the one in his pocket was far from safely ended. Inferi grabbed and rocked the boat, keeping Harry busy as he shot flames all around. He occasionally caught a glimpse of an actual face, some less decomposed than others, reminding him that these had been people once. Who were they? Random bodies, former supporters, his enemies …? No one would ever know.

Shouts and flashes from the other side proved that Bill and Tonks entertained unwelcome guests as well. His stomach knotted itself, imagining Tonks overwhelmed, pulled under by those gray, dead hands, struggling to escape, to breathe …

_Don't be stupid_, he chided himself. She could take care of herself. And as they drew close, he saw her doing just that. Instead of the spurts of flame he was using, a steady jet of flame streamed from the wand she cracked like a whip, keeping the Inferi at bay.

"Bill!" Harry yelled when the boat brushed the stony shoreline.

Bill ran to the boat without delay. Harry helped Dumbledore to his feet and supported him until Bill took over, helping him out of the boat. Though he'd stopped his moans and confusing pleas, the Headmaster was still too cold, pale, and weak. Harry couldn't imagine what could bring Albus Dumbledore to his knees.

Once Bill had Dumbledore supported, Harry began to climb out of the boat. His ankle caught something, or something caught his ankle. Someone shouted his name. There was a splash, and suddenly Harry was underwater. Surrounded. Dead eyes stared at him while countless hands pulled down, down, down. He kicked and struggled, fruitlessly trying to cast flames before he conquered his rising panic and realized fire didn't work underwater. He lit the tip of his wand with a _lumos_ spell, buying himself some room, but he couldn't be everywhere at once, and every time he turned, they came at him again. His lungs began to burn, and he did all he could to push his way to the surface, practically climbing on top of the bodies, there were so many.

A burning light burst out above the water, so bright even Harry had to fight the urge to duck his head. He heard another muffled splash, and although the Inferi were swarming away from the fire above them, one of them seized his waist. Harry kicked again, connecting with something solid that didn't let go, and it wasn't until his head resurfaced that he recognized it wasn't an Inferius who had him after all.

The surface was ablaze with heat and fire, a veritable wave of flames spreading across the room from Dumbledore's wand. The Headmaster still leaned against Bill for support, but there was nothing weak about his face any longer, blazing with something stronger than any fire. And Tonks – where was Tonks?

Still coughing and sputtering, Harry spun around on the wet stone, ready to send fire of his own if they had her, but Tonks was kneeling next to him, sopping wet.

She stared at him with a look he'd never before seen on her face, fear mixed with something he couldn't quite place. "Harry," was all she said, also in a loaded tone he'd never heard.

"I know," he answered before taking her hand as they scrambled to their feet. Some things could wait. Had to wait.

His moment of strength past, Dumbledore lowered his wand and sagged against Bill again. "What happened?" Bill asked.

Harry shook his head. "We got what we came for, but he's in a bad way. We have to get him back to Hogwarts."

"And rather in a hurry," Tonks urged. With the cave now reeking of burnt flesh, those Inferi who'd escaped Dumbledore's fireball underneath the water rose once more.

"Don't worry, Professor," Harry told him, supporting his other side. "We'll take you home."

They had to use Dumbledore's blood to open the door again, for the blood of no one else worked, but as his original wound remained unhealed, it didn't matter. Remus met them on the other side, more agitated than Harry had ever seen him.

"What happened?" he echoed Bill, taking in Dumbledore's state in one glance. "I could hear all sorts of noise, but nothing I tried let me through the rock."

Harry let the taller man take his place supporting the Headmaster. "I'll explain later. Tonks, go ahead of us and have Professor Snape meet us in Dumbledore's office."

She had already taken two steps when she turned and gave him a sharp look. "Snape?"

"Yes. Trust me."

That she must have, for she left without another word, jogging and diving into the sea. She was still wet, Snape at her side, when they arrived in Dumbledore's office. As soon as they sat him in his chair, Snape swooped in, running his wand over the Headmaster's body.

"Potter, come here," he ordered. When Harry was at his side, he spoke in a low voice barely loud enough for him to hear, and certainly not enough for the three worried observers. "What happened?"

"He drank a potion. I don't know what was in it. It looked like water, but it made him – he was in pain, obvious pain, and he was talking … I don't know. Not to me. Like he was hallucinating. He begged for water afterward."

Snape waved his hand, and, rather annoyed at the curt dismissal, Harry gave him room to work and retreated to stand with the others. What if Snape couldn't save him? What if Harry had killed Dumbledore by allowing him to drink all the potion? His chest tightened at the thought. He would be left to face Voldemort unprepared, all alone and –

The warm pressure of a hand in his stopped his train of thoughts. Worrying helped nothing.

"Harry, what happened over there?" Bill asked quietly.

"There was a potion, someone had to drink it, and Professor Dumbledore … he made me promise to make him drink it all … I didn't want to but I promised …" He trailed off, not wanting to meet anyone's eyes. Maybe if they'd split the potion, Dumbledore wouldn't be on the brink of death.

"If Dumbledore told you to, then you did the right thing," said Remus. "Then what happened? What was all the noise?"

"He wanted water, and the spell wouldn't work, so I got some – there was a lake inside, and I got some from that, and that's when –"

"Inferi," Tonks said with a shudder. "Bill and I were on the opposite side, and all of a sudden these _things_ began to climb out of the water."

"Inferi?" Remus repeated. "There haven't been confirmed sightings since … last time."

"These were definitely Inferi. And nothing you ever study in Defense Against the Dark Arts prepares you for it." Bill shook his head, his long hair flopping into his eyes. "I saw some crazy stuff in Egyptian tombs, but I don't mind admitting those things give me major willies."

Remus nodded. "They aren't anything to play with, but it looks like you took care of them, which explains the burn marks."

Startled, Harry looked at his companions for the first time. Bill's eyebrows were singed off, and Tonks' left sleeve was spotted with charred holes. A slash traveled through her trousers and down one leg as well.

Tonks said, "Yeah, we did for them, but it was all Dumbledore in the end. There were just so many, I thought we were going to be overwhelmed, and Harry –" She swallowed. "Harry was dragged into the water."

Bill picked up the tale. "Look at Dumbledore; he could barely stand, but the next thing I knew he had an entire wave of Fiendfyre going out across the cavern with as much effort as it would take me to light a fireplace."

"That was Fiendfyre?" Harry questioned sharply. If he'd known that, he could have tossed the horcrux in and been done with it. But no, Dumbledore was sure to want to see it.

Assuming he recovered enough to be able to.

Time ticked past, but whether it was creeping or rushing, Harry couldn't say. Their conversation waned as they watched Snape mutter spells and administer potions. Harry told himself that if Snape saved Dumbledore's life (a second time, according to the Headmaster's story about the previous horcrux), he'd forget all about his animosity for his teacher.

Eventually more from Dumbledore could be heard than faint murmurs, and all breathed sighs of relief when Snape took a step back. Though still weary and pale in appearance, Dumbledore sat up of his own accord, life returning to his eyes.

"… haven't much time," Harry heard Snape say.

"Yes, thank you, Severus. I understand. We have much to discuss on the morrow. For now, there are other tasks at hand."

"You should rest," Snape protested, throwing a sweeping glower over Remus, Bill, and Tonks and coming to rest on Harry.

"My body agrees with you, but I fear my mind is another matter. I shall retire soon. It is quite late; I suggest you do the same."

"If you are sure, Headmaster. Shall I escort Potter to his dormitory?"

Harry frowned, but Dumbledore said, in a voice that remained hoarse, "That will not be necessary. I require a short word with Harry." When Snape vacillated, he added, "Tomorrow, Severus."

When the irascible teacher finally departed, Tonks was the first to speak. "Are you going to be okay, Professor?"

"I will suffer no lasting effects from the potion, Nymphadora. Severus is very thorough." He managed a smile. "I want to thank each of you for your assistance tonight. I know perhaps you have not agreed with my decisions in the past, and I am grateful you can overlook those feelings when the situation requires."

For a moment all were silent beyond the clearing of Bill's throat. Harry stared at the ground, recalling the one Order meeting he'd attended. Not for the first time, he wondered what would have happened if he had stepped back and followed Dumbledore's lead this year.

He wasn't surprised to hear Remus first. "We all want the same thing in the end, Albus."

"Just doing what we can," agreed Bill. "I assume we got what we went for?"

"Yeah," said Harry, pulling the locket out of his pocket and holding it up to spin in the light, careful to grasp the chain through his protective cloth.

"A locket. It's not much to look at, is it?" Bill remarked.

Harry blinked at the silver pendant. It was small, cheap, and plain, no ornate S and glittering gems to declare its value and heritage and importance as a possession of Salazar Slytherin. It was, he saw in an instant, not the right locket, not the one Marvolo Gaunt had thrust in Bob Ogden's face, not the one Caractacus Burke had bought for a song. It wasn't the horcrux.

"No," he said with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, tearing his eyes away to glance at Dumbledore. "It's not."

"Well then, mission accomplished," said Tonks. "Suppose that's it, innit?"

Following her cue, Bill and Remus said their goodbyes, though Bill gave the locket a long, suspicious glance. Tonks was the last out, and she gave Harry a quick hug, using it as cover to whisper in his ear, "Later."

When the door shut behind her, Harry dropped the locket on Dumbledore's desk and pulled up a chair. "All that for nothing," he said heavily.

"There is always something, Harry, even if it is not what one anticipated. For instance, you now know Voldemort is using Inferi and how to deal with them."

"That's something I could have done without."

Dumbledore smiled and let his gaze travel to the locket. He picked it up and turned it slowly in his hands. After a few moments of study, he pried it open, and, to their surprise, a tiny folded scrap of parchment fell out.

Harry reached out and grabbed the parchment as automatically as if it were a snitch, reading aloud the words written inside.

"_To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more. R.A.B."_

Harry trailed off. Someone else knew. Someone else was (or had been) hunting the horcruxes. And that someone, judging by the look on Dumbledore's normally imperturbable face, was just as much news to him as it was to Harry.

Harry gave one mirthless laugh. "I don't suppose you know an R.A.B. off the top of your head, do you?"

"No, I am afraid I do not. I must admit this is quite unexpected." Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "Quite."

"So … we figure out who this person is, find him or her, and maybe he's already destroyed all the horcruxes?" Harry thought aloud.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore allowed, indulging Harry's wishful thinking, admittedly a long shot. He interlaced his long fingers under his chin and studied the false locket at length, his expression revealing nothing but intense thought.

Harry read the note twice, thrice, tracing his fingers over the dark ink. The parchment was still as crisp as it had been the day it was crammed in the fake locket, whenever that was, no fading apparent in either ink or parchment. Given its firm incarceration inside the locket, that gave no indication as to age.

"Sir?" he asked to get Dumbledore's attention. "The only people I've ever heard say 'Dark Lord' are Death Eaters."

Dumbledore nodded, still clearly in deep thought over this unexpected development. "It would seem to be so. While I am quite cleverer than most people, I will not be so arrogant as to assume I am the only one capable of discovering his horcruxes. Tom does like to boast."

"It could have been any of the Death Eaters there that night in the graveyard when he came back. They all heard him. And Lucius Malfoy had the diary. He knew it was something special, even if he didn't know what. Maybe he gave another horcrux to someone else to keep safe, and they figured it out."

"Perhaps."

Again it seemed to Harry that Dumbledore was patronizing him, and he swallowed his irritation, focusing his energy on solving the new puzzle in front of them.

"We only just escaped the cave. If someone went there by himself to get the horcrux, then how do we know he made it out? The real locket might be," his insides turned to ice, "at the bottom of the lake."

"It is a possibility. Best we save our efforts for a later date, Harry, when our minds are properly focused. I believe it is time we both took Professor Snape's excellent advice and got some rest."

"Are you going to be okay, sir?" Harry asked, remembering Dumbledore's ordeal.

"Just as I told Miss Tonks, Professor Snape knows what he is doing. It was smart of you to seek him, not to demean the outstanding talents of Madam Pomfrey."

"If you say so." Casting a last look at the puzzling note and locket, Harry headed for the door. He paused halfway there, unable to withhold his curiosity. "Sir? What – what did the potion do to you? You said things …"

Dumbledore frowned, a multitude of complex emotions traversing the wrinkles on his face. Fawkes, whom Harry had though asleep, shuffled on his perch. "Dementors are not the only thing that can make one relive his worst memories, Harry," he finally said quietly, and something in his voice prevented Harry from digging further. "As you said, it is something I could have gone without knowing." Fawkes cooed, low and oddly sad.

"Okay." Harry paused, wanting to say something about the spread of the curse on Dumbledore's hand or the fact that he should have known it wasn't a horcrux or his suspicions – his knowledge? – of why he could sense them in the first place, but it all jumbled together in one great, unspeakable lump.

"Good night, Harry. You did very well tonight, and I was glad to have you with me. Get some sleep, and good luck on your match tomorrow."

His match? Oh! The Quidditch final was tomorrow! He'd all but forgotten with all the night's happenings. With a nod, Harry went, leaving Dumbledore still gazing at the locket and note.

He knew from the start he wasn't heading back to his dormitory just yet, despite knowing he needed sleep for the match. There had been something in her voice, something that told him 'later' was important.

Tonks pulled him inside as soon as he knocked on her door. Later he would realize he had unconsciously memorized everything about that night. From the loose pink waves that tumbled across her shoulders, her vest and low slung pajamas, and the one dim light beside her bed to his own dirty jeans and shirt, the feel of his wand in his hand, and how completely quiet it was. In the moment, however, all he could ascertain was that she wore the same hard, terrified look she'd had when she pulled him out of the water.

"Harry," was all she said, and it was all that was needed.

He was drowning all over again in gray eyes, whatever else had happened that night, his fears and anxieties, pushed aside for something even more powerful, something that would wait no longer.

And this time, no one was there to interrupt them.


	40. Quidditch

**Quidditch**

Harry woke confused. He was in a large, unfamiliar bed in a room with no others. Most significantly, he wasn't alone. Tonks slept with her back to him, a sheet draped up to her waist with her bare profile clearly silhouetted in the realistic if false moonlight. Harry's eyes followed the alluring outline, hardly daring to believe how well he now knew her each and every curve.

Every detail was permanently etched in his mind from the moment her clothing dropped to the floor. Her delighted little laughs, the way their eyes locked, how her lips parted as she threw back her head, what she really meant when she lost control of her morphing. She had been patient with his eager, nervous fumbling, allowing him to explore her at his leisure using soft words, and later more inarticulate sounds, of encouragement.

Afterward, she didn't have to ask him to stay; Harry never wanted to move. She whispered to him how scared she'd been that she would lose him, how much she regretted breaking up with him, how she adored all sorts of things about him. He just told her he loved her.

A tattoo of a badger curled up on her left shoulder blade, sleeping just like its owner. Harry reached out to lightly trace the black and yellow emblem. Tonks stirred, and he snatched his hand back too late.

She rolled over, flinging one arm over his chest. The skin-on-skin contact made him shiver. "Go back to sleep, love," she mumbled into her pillow.

He knew he needed to get back to Gryffindor Tower soon. Five more minutes, he told himself. Her breathing had already deepened, and soon she would be asleep enough that he wouldn't disturb her. Just five more minutes.

**oOo**

When Harry woke again, fuzzy light filtered in. Dawn was coming soon. He reached out, feeling only a bare stretch of warm bed. He sat up, blinking groggily and looking around.

A blurry figure approached, sharpening into Tonks after he found his glasses. She wore only quaffle-patterned knickers, a camisole, and a smile.

"Good morning, handsome," she said, plopping down beside him. "I was just about to wake you. I've a very early meeting at the Ministry."

He quirked an eyebrow. "This early?"

"Not quite." Dropping her smile, she chewed on her lip before saying, with a confessional air, "I have my preliminary meeting for a new partner."

"That's … great?" he said, quickly modulating his tone at her expression. "No?"

"I don't want another partner," she muttered.

"But you have to, right? Don't you still want to be an Auror?"

"Of course. It's only … I've never had another partner. I don't know how to be an Auror without Cooper."

"Yes, you do." Harry reached over to take her hand. "Don't start dwelling on it again."

"I don't dwell. What? Okay, maybe a little."

"Or the past month and a half …" Her eyebrows shot up. "Sorry, sorry."

"If you're going to start throwing it in my face," she began mildly.

"If you're going to pretend it never happened," he said in the same manner.

Tonks rolled on one side, propping her head up with an elbow and studying him. A line of amusement ran across her face. Finally she held out her free hand. "Fine. Truce?"

"Truce."

Harry grasped her hand, pulling hard so that, with a surprised squeak of laughter, she landed in his lap. He kissed her freely, hungrily, ready to practice all he'd learned the previous night. Never let it be said Harry Potter wasn't diligent when he wanted to be. Unfortunately Tonks proved capable of resisting his best efforts, removing herself with a groan that did nothing to calm his ardor.

"Oh, you're terrible. I have to get ready and find some coffee."

Harry released her after a kiss of protest, sinking back into her bed. It was quite comfortable, large and soft with a thick duvet, gold in color and embroidered with an oversized H. "Have it your way, then. Have you any idea who the new bloke will be?"

"Who? No. Today I meet with Beaky and Robards to get the final sign-off on returning to duty, and then Alex and I will discuss what's going to happen next. Most likely I won't be paired up until term is over, as my assignment here won't end until then anyway."

"Good luck." He had a rather important day ahead of him, so Harry prepared to leave, but at the same moment an annoying thought sprung up in his head. "You're going to miss my match again, aren't you?"

Tonks looked up from the mirror in which she'd been testing various hairstyles, halfway through morphing leaving her with a multicolored one that would have been the height of fashion a decade earlier. Harry's mouth twitched. "No, I'll be there. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"You said that the last two times," he pointed out.

"I know, and I'm sorry. But this is the final; I'll be there. I promise." She held his eyes. "Trust me."

He let that hang. "I do."

"Good." Her mouth sprang into a grin. "I even wore my lucky knickers, just for you."

Heading back into the loo, she wiggled her quaffle-covered bum, making Harry laugh. If he decided to think about that during the match, they might prove rather unlucky for him.

**oOo**

Harry hastened his return to Gryffindor Tower, remembering with more than a little guilt that Ron and Hermione were waiting for his return to hear about the horcrux expedition. They would have gone along in heartbeat if Dumbledore allowed, but it was out of the question.

He found them in the common room, both having succumbed to sleep at some point, a snoring Ron sprawled in a chair while Hermione curled up like a cat on the sofa. Harry wavered, wanting to let them sleep, but he knew he'd never hear the end of it from Hermione if he scarpered off to his four-poster. It only took a few nudges for Ron to wake after one shockingly loud snort.

"But I don't want the – what? Er, Harry? Harry!" He sat up straight. "About bloody time, mate! Where have you been? Did you get it?"

"Hold on, I'll tell you." He took a step toward Hermione.

"No, don't wake her!" Ron gave him an abashed grin. "It took her forever to fall asleep. Every time I dozed off, she'd wake me with some other theory about where you were. Blimey, she ought to become an author – she killed you off about a dozen times. Just give me a minute to wake up before she gets all shrill. So you're alright, then?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a sigh, resigned to telling the story twice. "But we didn't get it."

"It wasn't there?"

"No – well, it was at some point, but someone else got to it before us. I don't know – listen, it's complicated. I'll tell you the entire story tomorrow, but the point is, it ended up being useless."

"Rotten luck," Ron said sympathetically. "A long trip for a dead end."

Harry flushed, mussing his hair. "Well, er, you see, we've been back for hours. I've, er, been with Tonks."

"Oh. Oh!" The fireplace gave off more than enough light for Harry to see Ron's dawning understanding. He grinned broadly, cuffing Harry on the arm. "Well done, mate! Wicked, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's brill– wait, what?" The same firelight allowed Harry to see Ron's half-proud, half-embarrassed expression. "You never said anything!"

"I'm not Seamus, I'm not going to make an announcement every time a bird looks at me twice," Ron retorted good-naturedly. "What's between Lav and I is between us." Suddenly his face fell. "Or at least it was."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

Ron fell back into his chair heavily. "She got more than a bit shirty when she saw Hermione and I staying up late together. I reckon she thinks I still fancy her. But I don't, Harry. It's Lavender I fancy. Hell, more than fancy!"

"So tell her that," Harry suggested, startled by the declaration. "Blame it on me, if you like. Tell her I had a detention and asked you to wait up."

"You think that will work?" asked Ron anxiously.

"I think you have to try."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Hey, Harry? Even though I said some things, I'm glad it's working out with you and Tonks."

"Thanks, Ron. I hope Lavender comes around."

They stood there for a few moments, Harry and his first true friend, nodding and grinning, until Ron jerked his head toward their dormitory. "Think I'll call it a night, then."

"Yeah, I'll be up soon."

Ron was halfway up the staircase when he stopped and called down to Harry. "Oi, mate! I don't fancy being you right now, having to tell Hermione you made her stay up late worrying for hours because you were too busy shagging your girlfriend."

No, Harry decided while gently shaking Hermione's shoulder, Ron was wrong. While it wasn't the most enviable of things to do, the fact that he'd just spent the night with Tonks more than made up for it. And in the end, Hermione was surprisingly agreeable.

If only they'd been able to find the horcrux or knew who R.A.B. was, it would have been a very successful night.

**oOo**

By that afternoon Harry knew he should have felt the fatigue of a night with little sleep, but he was too keyed up on adrenaline to care. His team, judging by the fidgeting and antics, felt the same. While his beaters wrestled, Demelza did star jumps, and Ginny and Katie chatted excitedly with the energy of a thousand cups of coffee. Even the reserves, Dean and Gavin, weren't immune to the energetic atmosphere, unable to keep still. Only Cormac resisted the urges, standing impassively in the doorway, his impressive bulk blocking the sunlight.

"Oi! OI!" Harry had to bellow several times before his voice reached the ears of his team. Ritchie paused with Jimmy in a headlock. "Right, that's enough. It's nearly time. I don't need to tell you what to do. Ravenclaw beat Slytherin and steamrollered over Hufflepuff, so we're even with points. All we have to do is win, and the Cup is ours. I have it on good authority that Professor McGonagall has grown extremely fond of having it in her office for the last two years, and I don't expect she'll be keen to give it up. I've seen her in a temper, and that's not a scene I care to repeat, so let's win, shall we?"

They cheered with deafening enthusiasm, storming out the locker room and onto the pitch to an appreciative crowd, or half of it, anyway. The roars of the scarlet-and-gold clad Gryffindors more than drowned out the boos of Slytherin, who despite not participating in the match had chosen a side in much more biased manner than impartial Hufflepuff.

"I suppose Potter's put together a pretty decent team this year," came a bored voice from the staff stands. Hufflepuff Zacharias Smith, no more a fan of Harry than Harry was of him, was commentating again, along with Luna. Luna could be entertaining, but Harry missed Lee Jordan. "Chang has as well, though, tougher by my guess. Hopefully."

As the Gryffindor team completed its first synchronized lap around the pitch, the blue and bronze of Ravenclaw came out to wild cheers from their supporters. It was a good team, Harry had to concede reluctantly before reassuring himself that merely good wasn't good enough. He glanced at the staff stands again on his second lap, chuckling at the enormous stuffed eagle perched on Luna's head. The woman next to her, a Gyffindor necktie hanging over her maroon robes, kept having to duck out of the way whenever Luna turned her head.

Harry slowed, grinning stupidly as he recognized her. Tonks beamed and waved, wearing an equally goofy grin. On her other side she was dwarfed by Hagrid, who waved a meaty hand at Harry as well, sending Luna's eagle flying.

"Harry!" Ginny called.

He jerked around to see her pointing at everyone else, who were taking their positions. With one last wave he sped toward the middle of the pitch to meet Cho and Madam Hooch.

"Captains, shake hands," ordered Hooch.

They did so. "Good luck, Harry," Cho said with a warm smile.

"You, too, Cho."

The whistle blew, and they were off. Red and blue blurs shot across the field. From the start it was one of the fastest matches Harry had ever seen at Hogwarts. Smith, disinterested to begin with, only half-heartedly attempted to keep up with the rapid changes of possession.

"Weasley takes possession of the quaffle, now to Bell, back to Weasley – no, Chambers has it. He passes to Bradley, who – stolen by Weasley. She – ouch, nice bludger from Cornfoot, so Bradley takes it again, passes to – taken by Robins – no, Chambers – er, Quirke – oh hell, I don't know. Anyway, Ravenclaw has the quaffle, and they go for a – no. Gryffindor now – no, back to – Gryffindor again – Bell – oh, I give up."

Harry crisscrossed the sky at a high speed, keeping one ear on the game as he scanned for the snitch. With only a win needed, he wanted to catch the snitch and end the game as soon as possible. No reason to give Ravenclaw more opportunities than they must. He occasionally passed Cho doing the same thing, but now that the match had begun, pleasantries were over. She ignored him as thoroughly as he did her.

Gryffindor scored, then Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw … back and forth as the score mounted. Harry glanced down every so often, when the crowd roared or a bludger shot his way, but mostly he stayed out of it, trusting his team to get the job done. He was just as concerned that Cho not catch the snitch.

"… and that makes 150 to 100, Ravenclaw, as MacLaggen continues to do his best impression of a freezing charm." Smith's bored voice floated up to Harry's ears.

What? There was no reason Gryffindor should be down that much, or at all. Casting one eye at Cho, who circled the stands with no real destination, Harry flew lower.

"Absent-mindedness can be a symptom of Loser's Lurgy," Luna commented.

Katie passed the quaffle to Demelza, who had to swerve quickly to avoid a bludger, the quaffle slipping from her grasp. Ravenclaw chaser Chambers swooped underneath and caught it, streaking down the pitch with a teammate on either side for protection. Katie and Demelza were too far behind, and though Ginny flew fast and the beaters did their best, it was up to Cormac.

The keeper in question waited stolidly in front of the middle goal. Harry frowned; Cormac was a pain in the arse, but he was normally a good player. He ought to have been covering all three. Chambers came closer, feinting toward the left. Cormac didn't fall for it, not budging an inch. Chambers threw to the right, and Cormac didn't budge. The quaffle soared through, and still Cormac didn't budge.

"160 to 100, Ravenclaw, with another spectacular assist from the Gryffindor keeper."

Perturbed, Harry signaled for a timeout. The team gathered at the goalposts. All sent vile looks at their keeper.

"What the hell, MacLaggen?" Harry demanded. "Are you confunded?"

"He hasn't moved an inch the entire game," Ginny spat bitterly. "Except for the time the quaffle landed right in his arms and he threw it over my head to a bloody Ravenclaw!"

Harry stared. "Are you trying to throw the match?" His only response was a smirk. "You're trying to throw the match," Harry realized. All that silence he'd taken for acquiescence had in reality just been Cormac biding his time, waiting for the best moment to get back for losing to Ron at tryouts or Harry's assertion of authority as captain or Ginny's hex or whatever slights he felt had been done to him.

"Get off the pitch, get off my team, and get out of my sight," Harry ordered furiously.

"Ritchie, no!" Demelza said, grabbing the beater when he started after Cormac with an ugly look.

Madam Hooch flew over when she saw Cormac leave. "What's going on, Potter?" she inquired brusquely.

"He can't play anymore. He's, er, ill."

"He would have to have actually been playing for that to be true," she muttered under her breath. "Fine. Make your substitution, and let's get on with it."

Harry signaled for Dean to come out. "You're going to have to play keeper," he told his classmate.

"What? But I'm not a keeper."

"You'll have to be. You'll be fine. Now let's get back up. We can still win."

Back in the air, Harry clenched his broom, his blood boiling. The nerve of MacLaggen! Well, he'd have to deal with him later. Right now the best method of revenge was to win without him, making it more important than ever that Harry catch the snitch soon.

"Alright, Harry?" Cho called. Did she sound smug?

He grunted an affirmative, grinding his teeth, and the match began anew. Right away he could tell Ravenclaw smelled blood, showing no mercy. The Gryffindor chasers devoted as much effort in blocking for Dean as they did in trying to score their own goals, and the lopsided score reflected it.

The snitch was nowhere in sight, and the shadows began to lengthen, making it harder to see. Harry wished he knew a charm to spell his glasses to reflect the sun, much like Hermione had once charmed them to repel rain. One to keep his shirt from sticking to his back, like it currently was, drenched with sweat, would have been welcome as well. Why didn't they wear shorts and tee-shirts like football or rugby players?

He glimpsed the snitch at one point and flattened himself on his Firebolt as he tore after it, but when it flew into the sun, he and Cho nearly had a head-on collision, and the little golden ball escaped. Brushing his hair back, Harry looked down to catch a Ravenclaw get called on a cobbing foul. Ginny took the penalty, put it away nicely, and Gryffindor inched closer, 200-130.

A few minutes later Jimmy vented his feelings by sending a bludger through the tail of the broom of a Ravenclaw beater. He landed hard enough to make Harry wince but woozily demanded another broom and was soon back in the air. It went downhill from there. Blagging, blatching, blurting, cobbing, stooging … Madam Hooch's whistle worked overtime as Ravenclaw showed no mercy in their hunt for the Cup. The game grew dirtier and dirtier, and to Harry's mixed dismay and pride, Gryffindor rose to the challenge. Or was it lowered?

"Thomas misses by a mile, and so that's 250-170, Ravenclaw," Zacharias announced. "Seems like Gryffindor isn't even – blimey! That's –"

The rest of his commentary was drowned out by a large angry roar from the Gryffindor crowd. Harry stopped so suddenly that Cho, who'd been marking him, nearly fell off her broom trying to avoid him. Down below, his teammates were streaking to the ground where Ginny and Madam Hooch gathered. Harry followed.

Ginny's Cleansweep Eleven lay on the ground. She clutched her left arm awkwardly, her face pale under her freckles, and Harry had a sinking feeling that he was about to make another substitution.

"Out of the way, please," Professor McGonagall said sharply, brushing past Jimmy and Ritchie. "How bad is it, Rolanda?"

"Broken, I'm afraid, not that a bone would be anything else after getting hit with a bludger at such close range. Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey can fix it in a trice."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ginny murmured as Professor McGonagall helped her away to the Hospital Wing.

"Just get better. We'll come visit you with the Cup!" he called after her.

Katie and Demelza demanded a penalty, but Madam Hooch refused, saying bludgers were part of the game. After warning both Harry and Cho that their teams needed to clean it up, she gave Harry a one-minute timeout to get Gavin settled.

"Listen up: no more blocking for Dean," he ordered his chasers. "Sorry, mate, but you're on your own. Katie, Demelza, Gavin, I want you to go with every formation in the book – Hawkshead, Porskoff, Woollongong – whatever you can think of. Katie calls them. Make their chasers work. And no more bloody fouls, okay?"

Six weary faces cheered with some semblance of enthusiasm, but they took to the air much slower than they had previously. No one had expected a match like this, and Harry worried he'd made them perhaps too confident initially. He resumed his search for the snitch with more than a little urgency, long ready for the match to be over.

They settled into a sluggish stalemate as the chasers kept each other busy, giving Dean a much-wanted break. Eventually it ended, of course, when Bradley broke away and streaked down the pitch as fast as his Twigger allowed. He hurled the quaffle through the middle pitch after feinting to the right, and Dean dove, catching it by the tips of his fingers. Harry cheered and gave Dean a thumbs up. Perhaps this would be the moment everything turned around.

The crowd chanted something. Harry's curiosity piqued, he flew closer, hoping it wasn't "Gryffindor are losers."

"_He didn't let the quaffle in, Thomas is our King!"_

Ron, who was standing up in front of the Gryffindor section, waved with a slightly embarrassed grin on his face, and Harry returned it, astonished. They didn't stop there, either. When Katie scored, it was:

"_No one can stop our chasers now, Katie is our Queen!"_

"_He hits bludgers like no other, Jimmy is our King!"_

was what they chanted when Jimmy nearly unseated Chambers. And so on and so forth for every scarlet-clad player, with Ron leading every time. Whether it was the song, each other, or a combination, Harry's team noticeably picked up their game. Admitting he wouldn't mind hearing a verse of "Potter is our King", Harry did the same.

Gryffindor had pulled to a tie by the time Harry spotted the snitch again, circling Ravenclaw's goalposts. He took off, eliciting a gasp from the spectators, who knew a snitch chase when they saw one, and a curious comment by Luna wondering if he was pursued by a blibbering humdinger.

Cho saw Harry hurtling down the pitch and spotted the snitch herself a moment later. She was closer, but he was confident he could catch her first. No broom in the world could match a Firebolt, least of all a Comet 260. When he drew alongside her just before the goalposts, he remembered some old advice from Oliver Wood.

'_HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN! KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!'_

He grinned. That wouldn't be necessary here. With a burst of speed, he surged past her. The snitch shot away as Harry whipped around the goalposts, the rightmost one so close he could have reached out and grabbed it. Down the pitch he barreled with Cho on his tail, bursting between a startled Demelza and Gavin, causing the latter to drop the quaffle. Down toward the grass and then up again, so quickly he was afraid Cho wouldn't be able to pull out in time. Circling around stands with a group of excited young Hufflepuffs, then headed unerringly for the Gryffindor group on the opposite side. A bludger appeared, and Harry rolled over in mid-air to avoid it. The snitch was aiming straight for Ron.

Harry shifted forward to a precarious position, reaching out. Lavender squealed, Seamus dove out of the way, Ron's eyes widened with startled panic, and Harry's fist closed around the rapidly fluttering wings of the Golden Snitch, arresting his broom at the last possible second.

"I suppose that means Gryffindor wins, doesn't it?" Luna said vaguely.

From the roar that nearly burst Harry's eardrums, it did. Hermione and Parvati kissed Harry on his cheeks, Ron thumped him on the back so soundly Harry nearly fell off his broom, and Neville reached out to shake his hand and almost dropped from the stands. Harry continued to clench the snitch tightly, almost not daring to believe they'd won the match. They'd won the Cup!

When Harry's jubilant team bore him away, Katie and Demelza were crying. Dean could be heard shouting, "I've got to tell Ginny! I've got to tell Ginny!" Ritchie and Jimmy threw their bats in the air, one narrowly missing Gavin on the way down.

"Very well done, indeed, Gryffindor," said Professor Dumbledore with a beaming smile as he presented Harry with the Quidditch Cup, his twinkling blue eyes showing no sign on the previous night's malaise.

"Great game, Potter!" Tonks called out in a voice hoarse from cheering, giving him a wink and a wave, stooping under the weight of Hagrid's arm on her shoulders while the half-giant bellowed his own congratulations. Harry thought his mouth would split in a grin.

After shaking hands with a red-faced Cho, who seemed on the verge of one of her crying jags that Harry was too familiar with, he led his team on a victory lap around the pitch, their ears filled with the voices of their housemates, Ron's the loudest.

"_He never lets the snitch escape, Potter is our King!"_

**oOo**

The final term of the year raced to a finish, and life returned to Harry's version of normal. With impending exams, Hermione went into panic mode as usual, drawing up color-coded study schedules for the entire study group, and spent increasing amounts of time with Eric, helping him cram for his N.E.W.T.s. When Pansy Parkinson made a point of noticing, Daphne surprised all by tearing her classmate down in a barrage of withering remarks.

A dazed Cormac reported to the Hospital Wing a week after the final match with a variety of symptoms ranging from a spectacular set of antlers to a particularly stubborn jelly-legs jinx. Professor McGonagall's rather cursory investigation turned up no leads. His name was not added to the plaque memorializing their victory.

Harry continued to meet with Dumbledore every weekend, although the potion in the cave had exacted a clear toll on his health. They pursued the identity of R.A.B. with no success, but Dumbledore insisted Harry continue with his study of advanced magic, limiting the time spent on discovering their mysterious ally.

Harry even discreetly questioned Burke during their sessions, as Burke's father had been the one to purchase it from Merope Gaunt, but Burke had no idea what he was seeking. Burke pushed him harder and harder, allowing Harry to graduate to actual wands. Harry's attention was forced to focus, but he made a mental note to check on the middle name of one Reginald Borgin.

Sixth and seventh year students already of age received notices to report to the Ministry of Magic no more than a month after term ended for their wand and identification registration. Those like Harry who would come of age during the summer break were required to get it done before returning to Hogwarts in the fall. Harry seethed, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Tonks' twenty-third birthday came and went, and Harry spent the night with her again. She received an unexpected present from her parents in the form of an announcement that Andromeda was expecting another child at Christmas.

"You don't seem as excited as I would expect," Harry said when she told him. "I think it's brilliant."

"It is, and I am," she agreed, fidgeting with a party blower. Harry had surprised her by hiring Dobby to decorate her quarters, complete with crepe garlands, hats, and rainbow-colored confetti, in the midst of which they currently sat. "It's just so … Merlin, so unexpected. I gave up on the idea of a sibling by the time I started Hogwarts. I suppose I figured if anyone in the family would be popping out sprog, it would be me. Not that I plan on it anytime soon," she added hastily at the expression on Harry's face. "Or at all, I reckon. It's just … I think I need time to get used to the idea."

"Could someone possibly be jealous?" he teased, ducking the leftover fairy cake she threw at him.

"Not at all, actually. The only thing I would be jealous of is that the little tyke gets to have me as a sister. I'm going to be aces at the big sister role."

"What makes you so sure? I seem to remember you declaring yourself a 'spoiled only child.'"

"My general awesomeness at everything, babe. Awesome Auror, fantastic chaser, ridiculously good-looking woman, superb Hufflepuff. Admittedly not so great girlfriend, but I'm working on that." Tonks offered him a self-deprecating grin before winking and sliding one leg over his lap, turning to straddle him. She whispered in his ear in a sultry voice, one finger tracing down his chest. "And an outstanding lover, of course."

Harry couldn't argue with that.

In fact, Harry's only complaint, beyond the fake locket, was that Tonks spent many hours at the Ministry, limiting their already minute time together. This was part of the reason he joined in enthusiastic applause when Professor McGonagall announced a Hogsmeade day the week before exams, the first since Katie was attacked.

"Yes, yes, settle down," she told the students gathered for dinner in the Great Hall. "We have put increased security in place to go along with our normal arrangements. I expect each of you to behave and obey any Ministry official. You should thank Auror Tonks for her tireless efforts in creating the necessary security plans."

Tonks gave a little wave from the staff table. Both Harry and McGonagall frowned at the catcalls and whistles that littered the applause.

The day arrived overcast and chilly for June, but it proved no match for youthful spirits, cooped up for far too long in a stone castle. The envious eyes of first and second years followed Harry and his friends as they joked and chatted their way to the Entrance Hall doors, joining the queue of students waiting to be dismissed by Filch's querulous gaze.

"We ought to be revising," Hermione complained.

"Lighten up, Hermione," Harry said. "You already know you're going to get top marks. A break will do you good."

Parvati chimed in, "Besides, you've studied so much you mumble rune translations in your sleep."

Hermione turned bright red. "I do not!"

Harry leaned into Parvati, speaking low under the cover of Ron's sniggers. "Does she?"

"No, but she reads behind her curtains by wandlight," Parvati confessed.

Harry laughed, hastily schooling his features under Hermione's glare.

They, along with Lavender and Ginny, were finally cleared to go by Filch, who seemed certain at least one of them was attempting to sneak something past him.

"Hold up there," he ordered when Ron made to go. "All students must be escorted by a teacher or Auror to Hogsmeade and back. Damn nuisance if you ask me …"

"Luckily, no one did," said a cheerful voice. Tonks strolled up the path, her bright smile contrasting with Filch's scowl. "I'll take this lot, Filchie. Oi, you two, come along!"

The last was directed to Eric and Daphne, who had just been cleared as well. They joined the Gryffindors.

Tonks sidled between Harry and Parvati as they began their trek down the forested path. She beamed at him. "Hi!"

He returned the expression and greeting, forcing himself to tear his gaze away before he lingered too long and started to think about her wearing nothing but that smile. Parvati and Lavender exchanged knowing smirks.

A pair of surly Aurors guarded the gates, hands clasped in front of their maroon robes. One dropped his grim countenance when they walked past. "Alright, Tonks? Care to catch a pint at the Hog's Head when we're off babysitting duty?"

"The Hog's Head? You'll catch more than a pint if you drink there," retorted Tonks with good humor. "Yeah, alright."

"Babysitting duty?" Ron repeated with indignation when the Aurors were out of earshot. "We aren't kids! Whose bright idea was this anyway, all these rules and escorts?"

"Mine, actually," Tonks replied with a wink, laughing at Ron's abashed expression. "Not my idea to go to Hogsmeade in the first place, but I'm responsible for security at Hogwarts and I put the plan together that enables you to be here today. Ministry and Board of Governors insistence, y'know. No one ever thanks the one behind the scenes, working tirelessly for the benefit of others. You're welcome," she finished, stressing the last two words with such an air of saintly aggrievement that even Ron had to chuckle.

She continued, with Hogsmeade now before them, as inviting as always. "No, you aren't kids, but some of the students are. We're simply trying to prepare for any contingencies and prevent anything like what happened to that girl last time. No Shrieking Shack, no Hog's Head. You're restricted to High Street. Oh, don't give me those looks. Nearly everything good is right here anyway."

"So that means no Madam Puddifoot's?" Ron asked with obvious delight.

Tonks grinned wickedly. "No, we know how much you lot enjoy it. Go on, then."

"Oh. Good," Ron intoned in a joyless voice as Lavender dragged him away, looking at Harry with helpless consternation. Harry stifled a chortle, knowing exactly what lay in store for him.

"I wouldn't be caught dead in that place, no matter how much snogging was promised," remarked Eric, catching Ginny's eye. "I'm going to Zonko's. Daph, you in?"

"Yeah." Then with a clear effort at nonchalance, "Granger? You lot want to come?"

"Well, I was going to go to Scrivener's, but –"

Parvati cut her off with an elbow to the ribs. "Yes, let's. Come on, Ginny."

Ginny was the only one who looked back at Harry as they departed, wearing a reluctant expression and confused as to why he didn't join them. The rest apparently forgot about him, which was to Tonks a good thing.

"I couldn't have worked this out better myself."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, in no way complaining.

"You, me, and only the wind for company." She jerked her head in the opposite direction. "Let's go."

"You said no sneaking off."

"Babe." She gave him a look. "What good is it to be the one who makes the rules if you can't break them?"

"There's the girl who could never have been a prefect. You know, Dora, I admire the way you get so close to being a responsible Auror without crossing the line."

"It's a natural talent, carefully cultivated over the years."

Laughing, they casually headed away from High Street and ducked down a dark side alley, emerging on a side street populated by quaint houses with sloping, thatched roofs and small, well-kept gardens. He didn't dare take her hand yet, but the secretive grins they exchanged were enough.

Shortly, however, his light mood began to sink. The act of slipping away together was naggingly familiar, and finally Harry stopped.

"We shouldn't do this."

Tonks halted as well, wrinkling her forehead when she frowned. "What, this –" She waved her hand around their surroundings. "Or this?" The same hand closed to a fist over her heart.

"The first," he assured her. "It's only, every time we do this, something bad happens. New Year's at the café, then Easter –"

"I know what happened at Easter," she interrupted harshly. "I know that every day."

"Well, this is starting to look just like that. Nothing feels right. I think we should go back. In fact, I think maybe we should go back to Hogwarts."

"You – you're serious," she stated, staring at him with something like surprised respect in her eyes. "Okay, let's go back."

Their steps were slower and heavier on the return, lacking the buoyancy of romance and mischief. Tonks was pensive, and Harry wondered if he'd offended her. After all, she was the one who'd worked overtime setting up this day.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Tonks blinked. "No. Why would there be? You have great instincts, babe. Always listen to them, even if I assure you no one would betray us."

"Someone already has," he interjected more forcefully than intended. "You know it, Dora, you have to. You aren't stupid. Whether you want to admit it or not, someone in the Ministry has been leaking secrets since Borgin was arrested. If it weren't for the fact that he's dead, I would even say –"

Tonks rounded on him. "How dare you say that? He would _never_ have – I can't believe you would – he would _never_ …" She trailed off, cheeks burning and eyes flashing, but she seemed to have no more strong words. "Let's just go," she finally muttered. "But nothing's going to –"

"Nymphadora."

The voice came from the shadows of the alley they were approaching. A tall, thin woman stepped out, and Harry immediately noted the desperation in her icy blue eyes. He reached for his wand.

Tonks stepped forward, subtly moving in front of Harry. "What do you want, Narcissa?" she asked, drawing her wand as well but letting it hang at her side.

"Your help. Please."

Tonks let out a bark of derisive laughter that painfully reminded Harry of Sirius. "My help? Why in the world would I help you?"

"I know what I said to you after Draco's trial, and I'm – I'm sorry," she said, wringing her hands. "I was too emotional. Please, I beg of you. He's going to kill my son. He's going to take Azkaban, and he's going to kill Draco. I have nowhere else to go."

"Why should I?" Tonks challenged. "I owe you nothing."

"Draco's where he belongs," added Harry. Hadn't they just been talking about the possibility of an attack? The appearance at that moment of someone who was practically a Death Eater herself was unsettling to say the least.

Narcissa's beseeching gaze didn't waver from her niece. Upon further study, her appearance had greatly diminished from the regal women Harry had seen last summer. Like her son, her pale skin was waxy, and her long blonde hair fell limply down her back. The overcast sky above only added to her washed out pallor.

"Your mother never gave up on me," she told Tonks. "I received a birth announcement when you were born. You were tiny, with a bit of pink, downy hair, wearing a beautiful white dress, and you were sound asleep."

"I've seen that picture," Tonks mumbled with a look akin to one who'd been slapped. She shook her purple tresses. "That doesn't matter."

"She sent me a picture of you every year for five years, until I – I wrote and told her to stop. Please, for her sake, help me. I'll do whatever you want, I'll tell you everything I know. If he learns I'm here, he'll kill me anyway."

"You said he's going to kill your son," said Harry. "What about your husband? He's in Azkaban, too." He couldn't resist adding a last dig. "The Malfoy name isn't as good as it once was, is it?"

Her mouth twitched as if stifling a deep-set urge to sneer, but her voice was carefully controlled when she answered, "Lucius is a grown man. I love him, but he chose this life. I have to protect my son. I can only hope Lucius chooses to do the same."

"Isn't it a bit late for protecting your son?" Harry demanded. "Shouldn't you have thought of that before, I don't know, he took the Dark Mark?"

Narcissa shook her head in agitation, her words beginning to speed up. "I thought I had. If you knew what it's like, you would see – but we've had this conversation. Nymphadora, please, please help me. I will do anything. My life is yours."

Tonks stared her down, lifting her chin in a haughty manner reflective of the same one Harry had seen on all three Black sisters. "From what it sounds like, your life is rather worthless," she said so coldly even Harry, who had no love for the Malfoy family, was shocked. "And don't call me Nymphadora. Let's go, Harry." She grabbed his wrist tightly and propelled him past Narcissa down the dark, narrow alley.

"Wait!" Narcissa's frantic voice chased them, her pitch rising. "He knows about you!"

The couple stopped at the same moment, glancing at each other before slowly turning back to Narcissa.

Sensing an opening, she continued quickly. "The Dark Lord knows you two are involved. He has for months. He knows when you're together, he knows your every movement." The latter was directed at Tonks, but now she spoke to Harry. "He will stop at nothing to kill you, Potter. I daresay it's his greatest desire. The Dark Lord does not tolerate failure, least of all his own." She worried one pink lip for a moment before glancing back and forth between Tonks and Harry. "Someone is spying for him, someone close to you. I swear I would tell you who if I knew, but I'm not privy to everything."

Harry and Tonks shared another glance, this one of trepidation. If she was being truthful, she confirmed what they already suspected. If. Harry took a long look around, from the cozy houses in front of them to the bustling shops behind, wondering not for the first time if this was some scheme for an ambush. His grip on his wand tightened.

"Okay." Tonks was nodding her head in a way Harry knew to mean she was thinking rapidly. "Okay. You say you will do anything? Prove it. Prove to me you're actually willing to switch sides, and then I'll see what I can do for you."

Narcissa sighed in palpable relief. "What do you want me to do?"

Tonks looked her over, a slight smile rising to her lips. "Narcissa, there are a lot of words to describe you, not many of which are flattering, but you aren't stupid. Figure it out."

She nodded, clenching her hands together. Tonks departed and Harry followed, leaving Narcissa alone with some metal rubbish bins, a few scraggly weeds, and her fear and despair in the dark alley.

They hurried along a side street, slipping past the more leisurely shoppers, some of whom gave Harry odd looks. He tried to keep his head down. His mind whirled with the implications of all Narcissa had said, trying to figure where to go from here. If she was right, they could be in danger. Hogsmeade – and all Harry's friends – could be in danger, all because of him, just like the attack on the Tonkses.

Tonks strode with purposeful strides, her lips pressed together in thin lines. "Er, Dora? Where are you going?" Harry asked.

"I'm going to take you back to the gates, inform the rest of the Aurors to secure the town immediately, and then I'm going to visit a certain someone," she said grimly as they passed the Hog's Head.

"What? Who? Do you believe her?"

"I have to, even if it didn't fit as neatly as it does. And boy, does it. I can't believe I didn't see it before. I've been so stupid and blind and – No. Fucking. Way."

She stopped so suddenly Harry crashed into her, knocking both to the cobblestoned street. She popped up immediately, never taking her gaze from the window of the Hog's Head, before seizing Harry's arm and dragging him to the side of the pub. Closing her eyes briefly in concentration, she waved her wand, sending three patronuses into the air.

"What's going –"

"Harry, listen to me. Go to High Street and get everyone back to Hogwarts. I just sent messages to Dumbledore, Remus, and Alex. Don't argue, just go."

And leave her? Was she mad? "But what are –"

"I know who's behind this, and he's here. I'm going to put an end to this. I can't believe I didn't bloody see this before. Now go; you're wasting time." Tonks took one step before turning and grabbing his collar, kissing him fiercely. Her eyes blazed as brightly as they had after the Horcrux cave. "Be safe. I – well, you know."

She took off. Harry stared after her in disbelief. He hadn't any idea who she was going after, but if this person was behind everything, Harry wasn't going to let her go alone. He hesitated only long enough to send a patronus each to Ron and Hermione before throwing his invisibility cloak over his head and running as quickly as he dared.

He slipped inside the Hog's Head when a departing patron conveniently let the door swing wide open. He spotted Tonks right away, leaning over the bar to speak to the barkeep, a gruff, scruffy-looking man with untamed gray hair. He appeared less than pleased with Tonks, and judging by the finger she pointed at him and her new Ministry ID she held in front of his nose, she returned the sentiment. Finally he pointed upstairs, and Tonks headed that way.

Harry began to follow, trying not to make any noise, but he quickly halted. Tonks turned around and hurried back to the barkeep, whispering something in his ear. He stiffened and nodded, disappearing into the back room.

Tonks bounded up the stairs, and Harry followed as quickly as he could. The pub wasn't crowded, but more than a few of the patrons were making hasty departures after Tonks flashed her Auror badge at the barkeep. Remembering the Hog's Head's unsavory reputation, Harry wasn't surprised.

He made it upstairs in time to see Tonks disappear into a room. Frowning, he pressed his ear to the door, wishing he had an extendable ear with him.

"You don't understand," a unfamiliar man said.

"The hell I don't," Tonks hissed. "You are a son of a bitch, and I'm going to make you pay like I should have done three years ago. How dare you come back?"

Bells went off in Harry's mind.

"Nym, you're wrong. I can explain everything."

"You couldn't explain anything then, and you can't explain it now. You know, once I thought I had so many things to say to you. But now? Merlin's balls, you're aren't worth my voice. Bugger off, Nick."

Realization swept over Harry, and with it the certainty he wasn't going to leave her alone with him. Sweeping the cloak from his head, he burst through the door into a small, dingy room.

"Harry?" Tonks gaped at him, managing to look furious and thrilled at the same time.

"Harry Potter?" her ex-fiancé echoed. Dark-haired and around Harry's height, he stood across the room, wandless.

Harry turned to Tonks, but the jet of green light that shot between them disrupted any conversation. Nick slumped against the side of the bed, dulled eyes gazing at the ceiling. For one infinite heartbeat, Harry couldn't move, staring at the dead man. With the next he threw himself to one side.

He never felt the spell strike his back, landing heavily on his stomach, frozen in place. The coppery taste of blood began to fill his mouth. Unable to move his gaze, he watched a large shadow on the wall approach.

"Oh, you bastard," he heard Tonks say before everything went black.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> First of all, I am so sorry to have left this story as long as I did. Without getting into details, my life threw me a major curveball, and I honestly don't know when I'll be able to write again. This is the last of the pre-written chapters I have. I debated for a while about posting this, knowing it leaves you hanging, but I'm hoping it spurs some progress for me. I can say the next chapter is partially complete. To that end, I've created twitter and tumblr accounts specifically for this story and any other writing I do. If you are so inclined, please follow and engage with me. I'll get into discussions, answer questions, post previews and updates, that sort of thing. The links are on my profile. So, once again, I apologize both for this long wait and for whatever wait there is to come. I make no promises as to when I'll post again, only that I will try my best and will not abandon this story. We're so close to the end. Thanks for reading.


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